


The loner and the prodigy

by I_could_not_think_of_anything_cool



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Boners, Boyfriends, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Bullying, Child Genius, Dorks in Love, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gay Male Character, Getting Arrested, Getting to Know Each Other, Going Viral, High School, Horny Teenagers, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Tried, I'm Sorry, Implied Masturbation, Insanity, Inventor, Jail, Kidnapping, Love Bites, M/M, Male Slash, Medication, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of Harry Potter, Nerdiness, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Paparazzi, Partial Nudity, Physical Therapy, Protective Older Brothers, Slow Burn, Small Towns, Smart Is The New Sexy, Sneaking Out, Swearing, Teen Crush, Therapy, Tickling, Time Skips, Witness Protection, he was an inventor and he drew cartoons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:56:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 49
Words: 189,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24474658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_could_not_think_of_anything_cool/pseuds/I_could_not_think_of_anything_cool
Summary: Logan is a lone wolf, and is quite content with staying perfectly normal in every conceivable way. Normal grades, normal behaviour, normal everything. Nothing ever seems to change where he lives. Everything turned upside down when he is tasked with guiding the new kid through school, who is anything but normal.Things are going to change so much.Originally posted on Fictionpress. (Now removed from Fictionpress.)Please R&R.
Relationships: Angelo Riva/Logan Dobson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	1. Prologue

_Monday, April 20th, 2009_

* * *

Secondary school teachers watched in awe as a five-year-old boy named Angelo Riva completed a test meant for students ten years his senior. Two people, the headmistress and the deputy head teacher (a man), watched from a window at the back of the room. "Are you sure he's capable of passing this test?" the deputy head muttered. He was relatively young man in his early thirties, but had far too many grey hairs.

"The psychologists who studied him are unanimous: this boy is a child genius. He should be fine with the difficulty," the headmistress reassured. She was a black lady with a tight bun and a tight black suit to match. "Now how about we let the results speak for themselves and leave him alone to work?" With that, the two left and resumed whatever duties they were carrying out before. They had no idea what the little boy in that room doing the maths test was capable of.

"It's incredible! The boy has a perfect score! My best students aren't this good!" the teacher marking the boy's work exclaimed.

"Impossible! Let me see!" the deputy head remarked. Going over all the answers, even he had to admit he was perfect. This boy would go places when he was older, that was for certain. They decided to talk to him a little. He was a sweet, innocent looking little boy who got up when they came in to shake their hands. _Polite little kid,_ the deputy head thought.

"Hello, sir. Hello, ma'am," he greeted, looking nothing short of adorable. Both adults couldn't help but smile.

"Hello, Angelo," the headmistress greeted. "How did you find the test?"

"It wasn't as bad as I thought," he admitted. This was surprising. That was an advanced test for fifteen-year-olds. How was this five-year-old saying it wasn't as bad as he thought? "When will I get the results back?" Angelo asked.

"Not until tomorrow," the deputy head soothed. "Now, let's talk about you. What do you want to be when you grow up?"

"An inventor," the boy said confidently. "I want to make new things to make people's lives easier and help stop global warming. People are cutting down too many trees and driving cars that emit carbon dioxide that harms the environment and melts the polar ice caps. It's not good for the earth and I wanna do something to help."

"Such a noble cause," the head teacher gushed. "What's your favourite subject?"

"Science, but I prefer physics and chemistry best," Angelo told them. "It's interesting to me and I want to learn it so I can be an inventor and make cool stuff that helps everyone." Their hearts basically melted. This was a selfless, sweet boy before them.

"Don't you think that you're a little young to be doing something like this?" the deputy head asked. "Maybe you should wait a little while."

"But in a little while, it's going to get worse," Angelo told him. "If it can't be me, then who? And if it's not now, then when? And if I'm too young, then why don't you two do it?" The headmistress had a small smirk on her face as the deputy head fought the rising blush on his face. The kid looked sweet and innocent, but behind the cute face was a lot of nerve. This one was a fighter. He could tell.

"You have a very interesting way of looking at things, you know," the deputy head admitted, still a little flustered. "I hope to see you on the cover of a science magazine one day, Angelo."

"Thank you!" Angelo smiled, with absolutely no trace of the savagery of before.

"Little one, you can go now. Your parents are outside the office waiting for you," the head teacher told the little boy, subtly ending the interview.

"Thank you, and thank you for having me," Angelo said, as he pushed himself out of the chair and let himself out. The two adults watched him leave.

"That boy is headed for greatness," the deputy head thought aloud. "That there is pure genius."

"That may be, but even pure genius is destructive. After all, it was the brilliance of Einstein that led to the tragedies of Hiroshima and Nagasaki," the head teacher countered.

"And there's no telling how it will be used."

"All we can do is wish him all the best in the future."

"Quite true."


	2. Shock announcement

_Thursday, April 18th, 2019_

* * *

Logan Dobson sighed as he trudged into the school grounds. Another day at the near-lawless hellhole of the school he attended where nothing interesting ever happened. It all seemed to be drama, drama and more drama, and he hated it. Why couldn't people just treat other people decently? That would probably get rid of at least 90% of the gossip around this place, maybe even all of it. The only reason he wasn't affected by it all was because he was a loner who stayed under the radar and out of people's sights. The only plan he had was get a decent education so he could get a job as a cartoonist and get out of there. People sometimes teased him about it, but it was nothing more than mild name-calling and none of these idiots seemed to find a nickname for him that was worse than 'weirdo', 'dork' or 'loser'.

He slotted into his usual seat, not at the front of the class with the hardcore geeks that were picked on by the entire school, but not at the back with the dumb kids who never got anything done. He just needed to get just enough work done to pass the class and keep the teachers out of his hair, but not enough to make him a target for the other students, a goal he was able to consistently meet in all of his lessons. He got pretty good grades at school (which got his mother off his back, too) so he managed to stay completely off the radar and out of the loop of any gossip. Logan was a complete loner, and unlike some of the kids in this dump, it was a choice made by him.

"OK, class, just settle down for a minute so I can do the register," their teacher, Miss Turrets, called out, which settled down a few kids. "Class . . . class . . . CLASS! SILENCE!" she roared. The kids settled down fast, and Miss Turrets grinned evilly. Logan only figured that she did this job because she got paid a pretty penny and the holidays were longer. For a woman who worked in a school, Miss Turrets sure seemed to hate kids. As the register droned on and on, Logan only paid attention to his name, and after that, he stayed roughly half-awake as Miss Turrets went through a bunch of notices and reminders about exams. Kids yawned, threw paper aeroplanes at the geeks, and passed notes around the room.

"Get on with it!" one boy at the back yelled. Miss Turrets fixed him with a death glare.

"Speak out of turn one more time and you'll be in detention for a week," she spat out. A few kids giggled as the offending student shrank into his chair with shame.

"Anyway, something you might like to know is that there is a new student due to come into our class soon. I will choose someone from this very room to act as a guide to this new boy." Logan found this a little odd. Who transferred schools nearly at the end of the year, and not even at the start of term? And why this school? Everything about it, in Logan's humble opinion, sucked.

"New boy?" a preppy cheerleader asked, blowing a pink bubble which popped on her face. "I'll do it, Miss Turrets. I'll be sure to show him everything this school has to offer." Her friends giggled and nodded along.

"Not you, Melanie. I'd like this student guide to be someone a little more down to earth," Miss Turrets replied. Their jaws dropped. "No, the new student's guide is going to be . . . Logan."

"Logan?" half the class shrieked. The protests just continued from there.

"But he's a nerd!"

"Why can't it be me?"

"He spends all day doodling!"

"Look at him!"

"ENOUGH!" Miss Turrets shrieked. "Logan was chosen because he's one of the few students in this school who doesn't have a record for fighting or vandalism or gossiping or bullying or any of the other things that the rest of you hoodlums are known for! Now sit yourselves down!" The class sat down, whispering to each other in shock. Nobody could believe this recent turn in events, least of all Logan. He was in shock, and very few things shocked him in this school. Whoever this new kid was must have some very crazy parents if they were willing to send them here, a tiny school in a tiny town called Willowdale. He put it out of his mind as he trudged to the other side of the school to a math lesson.

* * *

By lunchtime, it was all over the school that the loner boy was going to guide some new kid around instead of the cooler kids. The geeks, the model students with all A's and sucking up to the teachers with gifts and compliments hadn't been looked at once, let alone twice. It was all so very weird, and to Logan's annoyance, nobody could shut up about it. Not during lessons, not at break or lunch, and Logan felt like he was going insane on the bus ride home. So many questions from so many kids who hadn't looked twice in his direction before. The bus rider actually had to kick a few kids off the bus for being too rowdy, and Logan breathed a sigh of relief as he finally arrived at his stop and ran home. He let himself in and waited for his older brother Caleb to come home from work.

"In 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . ." Logan counted. As if on cue, a Harley came revving into the driveway, screeching to a stop inches from the walls of the house. A muscled young man stepped off the motorbike, taking off his helmet to reveal his wavy chocolate brown hair. He wore all black leather and a lopsided smile as he let himself into the house. This guy was Caleb, Logan's brother. Caleb's appearance was a stark contrast to Logan's head of straight ginger hair, scrawny frame and smaller than average height (Caleb was 5'11", but Logan was only 5'3" tall.)

"Hey, doodlebug!" he smiled, ruffling his little brother's hair. Logan smiled back. For all the faults Caleb had, at least he was a nice brother to him. "Anything new happen?"

"Some new student's coming to the school, and the teachers want me to be his guide," Logan reported.

"Why you?" Caleb asked.

"That's what everyone else would like to know," Logan sighed. "The teachers said it was because I had no record. But maybe they've got another reason for putting me with the new kid."

"Maybe they want you to make a few friends," Caleb suggested. "You never bring friends home."

"That's because everyone there has a snobby, immature clique mentality and refuses to socialize with anyone that doesn't fit in and I'm sick of it!" Logan shouted. He then sighed as he threw himself onto the sofa. "I guess we'll find out once he gets here. I hope he's not like the other kids. I could do with a breath of fresh air in that place."


	3. Meeting the new kid

_Friday, April 19th_

* * *

The moment Logan walked into the school, he was pulled aside by Miss Turrets. "What's going on?" Logan stammered.

"Oh, stop whimpering," Miss Turrets snapped. "I was just coming to brief you about the new student that you'll be guiding."

"Oh."

"His name is Angelo Riva, and apparently you're going to be in almost all of his classes," Miss Turrets informed. "Show him where the toilets are, how the canteen works, all the usual stuff. And make sure all those little hoodlums don't rip him apart; his file says that he's not your average kid. Probably just some deluded garbage his parents are giving us. He's in the visitor's lobby now."

Logan's interest was piqued by that. Not your average kid? But how? And if he isn't a normal teenager, then why doesn't his file say why? Surely he'd been to other schools before coming to Willowdale Secondary School? If not, why? His head was spinning with questions as he followed Miss Turrets to the visitor's lobby. It was bare and bland, with only a teenage boy and the middle-aged, female receptionist typing something into a dilapidated PC with her chubby, food-stained fingers. The confused boy with the oddly pristine appearance had to be the new kid, Angelo Riva. "You're Angelo, right?" Logan asked. The kid jumped, and Logan swore that he heard Miss Turrets stifle a snicker. Logan began to wonder even more how she was a teacher.

"Yes, I am," Angelo confirmed. Logan took the time to study his features. He had jet black hair that had been immaculately combed to the right, olive skin and bright green eyes and was fairly tall, around 5 feet 10 inches tall, if Logan was estimating correctly. He wore black jeans, cuffed at the bottom, and a blue button up shirt tucked into his jeans, with trainers that looked worn. He couldn't place his accent, though. He certainly didn't sound British, like everyone else, and didn't really look British, either. Logan guessed that Angelo was either Spanish or French. This guy was going to have a lot of girls and a few guys all over him the moment he stepped inside the classroom. "Hey, are you going to be the guide person the school was telling me about?"

"Yep," Logan told him. "The name's Logan Dobson." He stuck out his hand, and Angelo shook it.

"OK, ladies, the meet and greet is over," Miss Turrets interrupted. "Let's get Angelo to his new tutor group so he can meet his peers and introduce himself." The two teenagers were marched to their tutor room on the other side of the school, where they were greeted by curious, judgmental classmates.

"Whoa, that's the new kid!"

"If he was paired with Logan, he must be a total geek!"

"Hey, he's not geeky! He's totally hot!"

"I don't care too much that he looks like a geek, so long as he isn't a douchebag."

"Class, class! SILENCE AT ONCE!" Miss Turrets roared, and the noise died. She smirked at them, relishing her authority for a brief moment, before turning her attention to Angelo. "I'm sorry about the interruption, Angelo. Now, in order to break the ice, why don't you go up to the front of the class and introduce yourself?" This was something Miss Turrets loved to do to new students. She would put them at the front of the class to introduce themselves, hide a smirk as they stammered in front of their future classmates, and potentially set them up for a lifetime of bullying and taunting from kids they'd just met. Logan really worried for Angelo's sake. How would the new guy handle it?

"Why is something like this necessary, madam?" Angelo asked. "This isn't the first time I've done something like this, and I've found the process of introducing myself to be quite boring. If any of my classmates want to know about me, they can find me and ask. They're teenagers, not idiots. Can I take a seat now?" People gasped, some cheered and others laughed at the shocked look on Miss Turrets' face. This was the first time her plan hadn't worked, and it was a nasty shock for the evil educator. Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. "I'll take that as a yes," Angelo remarked as he took a seat next to Logan.

"You know, this guy's not bad!" remarked a boy at the back.

"This is awesome!" one preppy girl cheered.

"That is not something you encourage," a rather chubby, geeky boy replied. Logan didn't remember his name, but he knew that he was always a stickler for the rules. "He's defiantly breaking one of the biggest rules the school has!"

"Oh, will you lighten up?" another girl snapped. Angelo was calmly reading a book, ignoring all of it until a query popped up in his head.

"Wait, where's the geography class?" Angelo asked. "I have geography first lesson."

"Same here," Logan replied. "Just come with me when the bell goes." Angelo nodded and went back to his book, becoming a little startled when the bell rang and there was a mad rush of students leaving the room. "Hey, Angelo! Come with me!" Angelo got up, put the book away and walked with Logan through the halls, where he got a lot of attention. Outsiders were normally gawked at.

"That's the new guy? He looks weird."

"I don't like the look of him. He's too happy. Who can be happy and be here at the same time?"

"Oh, so he's the new guy, huh? He looks pretty cute!"

Angelo ignored all of these remarks as he walked with Logan to the geography lesson. He felt everyone's eyes on his back as he walked just a little bit faster. All this attention was embarrassing. When he got to the geography classroom, Angelo felt relieved that he could finally get away. The teacher, an old black man with receding grey hair and a brown suit, looked at him oddly for a little while, and then smiled warmly.

"Ah, so you must be the new student! What is your name, young man?" the teacher asked.

"I'm Angelo Riva, sir," Angelo introduced. "Who are you and where will I be sitting?"

"I am Mr Carey, Angelo, and you will be sitting wherever you want. I have no seating plan for this class," Mr Carey answered, and Angelo took a seat next to Logan. "Were you issued books before you were enrolled here?"

"Yes, sir," Angelo replied. Mr Carey nodded and started the lesson. The man began to talk about different biomes and how animals adapt to live in them as his students took notes in a semi-conscious state of utter boredom . . . except for Angelo. The boy was taking so many notes he actually ripped a small hole in his book. Logan stared at the black-haired boy in disbelief, before shaking his head and going back to his work.

 _This guy was going to have such bad handwriting when he read through his book,_ Logan thought, as he copied down a diagram. _I wonder if he's like this for all his classes. It could be quite interesting to watch, if I'm honest._

The bell went for the end of the lesson, class was dismissed, and Angelo, once again, asked Logan for directions to another class, this time English. "Um, Logan? Do you know where the English classrooms are?"

"That's where I'm going," Logan recalled. "Wait a minute. Where's your timetable?" Angelo took it out, and Logan compared it with his own. Miss Turrets was right: Angelo and Logan had a lot of their classes together, except for Maths and all three of the sciences. He was placed into the top set for those lessons. _Maybe the guy's just really smart,_ Logan figured, as he walked the black-haired teen to his next class.

* * *

After an hour of being forced to write down Macbeth quotes to do with the theme of guilt, Logan showed Angelo how the school worked during break. "Here's the canteen, and you start the line at the left side of the canteen and you have to pay at the till at the right side. The courts outside are only ever occupied by sporty people because there's a football pitch out there. The library is practically deserted, so if you need somewhere to hide from someone, that's the spot. The only people who stay there are the geeks who get picked on if they go anywhere else." Angelo listened intently to everything Logan said, occasionally nodding in all the right places like you were supposed to. Logan was beginning to like the guy. But there was something odd about him. He didn't look like a normal kid, not by a long shot. He didn't fit into any group Logan had ever seen, though. Considering he was in the higher classes, he could easily be a geek, but he liked messing with teachers too much. No geek would dare do that. He wasn't enthusiastic enough to be one of the preppy kids, and he didn't express any interest in sports that Logan had seen. Angelo was a hybrid of a geek and . . . something. Logan just couldn't put his finger on it yet. He figured that he'd find out more about him later. And by later, Logan meant at the end of the day, when he was going home. Angelo wasn't exactly keeping secrets from him, or from anyone. He seemed happy to talk to people about his past, judging from what Angelo had said to Miss Turrets on his very first day at the school.

When the bell screeched to signal the end of the day, Logan caught up with Angelo and asked, "Um, Angelo, what street do you live on?" Logan was expecting a sneer or a terrified look as Angelo thought Logan was the town stalker, but he didn't get any of that.

"I live on Ebony Avenue. What's so interesting about that, Logan?" Angelo asked. Logan had to think fast. What should he say?

"Oh, it's just that nobody ever saw a moving truck anywhere, and Willowdale is such a small town that even the trees have ears," Logan nervously babbled. Angelo bought it.

"Oh. Bye, Logan!" Angelo smiled, waving at Logan as he walked home. Logan nervously waved back, before running home as fast as he could. He knew that nobody but him would be there, he just needed to clear his head about this new guy. Nothing about him seemed normal, but nothing about him raised any red flags.

 _Maybe it was just a gut feeling,_ Logan figured, as he walked home to his typically empty house and turned on the radio to listen to music. As Avicii's songs drifted through the house, Logan took the time to think about the new guy. Miss Turrets said he wasn't a normal kid, and he certainly didn't act like one. He didn't seem to have a particular group, either, but that could just be because he was new. _I guess I can go to the park near Ebony Avenue and keep an eye out for Angelo's coming and goings while I do that,_ Logan figured. _He can't really say I was stalking him because I don't know which house is his. It's perfect._ Logan fell asleep to the sound of Anne-Marie and Marshmello singing FRIENDS, knowing that Angelo wasn't going to be considered odd once people knew more about him. And Logan thought that he was the perfect person to do it. Nobody suspected the quiet kids, anyway.


	4. A chance encounter

_Saturday, April 20th_

* * *

Logan slipped out of the house early, grabbed a sketchbook, a pencil and a dark blue hoodie and walked to a park. His plan was to stay there with the book, pretending to draw in it as a cover story while trying to find out which house was the one Angelo lived in. The hoodie was so nobody would be able to immediately know it was him. He was on pins and needles the entire time, constantly checking the front doors of all the houses to see who was coming and going. Angelo had to be one of the people leaving one of the doors . . . maybe. Logan couldn't be sure, and as time went on, he wondered if he was even on the right street. Had Angelo deliberately told him the wrong place as some sort of prank? Did he give the wrong name accidentally because he was still new to the place and hadn't figured out where he lived? Logan was beginning to wonder if Angelo even lived in this town. A few of the kids lived in a town called Moonbright, which was a stone's throw away from Willowdale, and Angelo was probably one of them, for all they knew. That would explain why nobody saw any moving vans or saw anyone moving into any of the vacant houses: they'd never been there at all. Sighing, Logan started to actually draw in his book and paid less attention to the houses. People went in and out of houses while Logan continued to sketch, oblivious to all the goings-on around his for hours.

Then it began to rain. It went from being a sunny day with tiny, fluffy white clouds in the sky to the heavens opening up and rain pouring out. Within a minute, Logan was soaked to the bone and staggering away to hide under a tree. He was going to wait it out until the rain stopped. As rain leaked onto his face from the leaves on the trees, he pulled his hoodie down onto his face as he felt droplets of water fall onto his nose. Now he literally couldn't see his hand in front of his face, but it would be worth it to get out of the rain.

"Excuse me, but are you OK?" somebody asked. "I saw that you were wet and didn't have an umbrella or anything. You are OK, aren't you?" Logan pulled up his hoodie to see Angelo's face. He had a raincoat and an umbrella on him ( _smart move,_ Logan thought), and had a male Golden Retriever on a lead. Logan backed away from the dog, and Angelo raised a confused eyebrow. "Logan, what's wrong? Did Pepsi scare you?"

"Pepsi?" Logan asked. "You have a drink on you?"

"No, Pepsi is the dog's name," Angelo clarified. Logan pulled his hoodie back down so Angelo didn't see him blushing with shame. How could he be so stupid? Logan was brought out of his own head by the words, "Well, there's a café we can stay in to escape the rain. If they let us three inside, we can stay until the rain stops."

"Three?" Logan asked. Angelo pointed at Pepsi, who was currently jumping up to lick the black-haired boy, golden tail wagging. "Oh, yeah."

* * *

The next thing Logan knew, he was outside a café with Pepsi, while Angelo went inside to ask the manager if dogs were allowed inside. Logan would have complained if it wasn't for the fact that Angelo had let him have the umbrella while he waited . . . and Pepsi, of course. The eager dog was all too happy to jump up and nudge Logan constantly, and despite the bad mood the rain had put him in, he couldn't help but smile at the dog's antics. He couldn't stay mad with Pepsi around; the adorable doggy smile on his furry face was contagious. Logan let out a squeak as Pepsi nudged his side with his cold, wet nose. He couldn't help it, though! It tickled! For a moment, Pepsi seemed to know this and stopped jumping up to nudge him, letting Logan regain his composure. But then he started nudging and licking even more. Logan couldn't take it anymore! It was uncomfortable to him, but it tickled so much, and the loner kid who usually didn't even smile around other kids began to giggle like a preschooler. It was embarrassing that he couldn't get even a dog to obey him, and the redhead began to wish that Angelo would get back soon. Pepsi was a good dog and meant no harm, but this was not something he wanted other people to know about. He'd never live it down.

"Hey, Logan! The manager said that dogs are allowed inside and - Pepsi, get off him!" Angelo yelped, separating Logan from the excitable Retriever. "Pepsi, what have I told you about jumping up on people?" Pepsi whimpered, lowering his head and giving Angelo the 'puppy eyes' treatment. "Oh, I know you're sorry, Pepsi, but you have to stop. Now get inside where it's warm." Then he turned to Logan. "I'm so sorry about Pepsi. He does this a lot, especially when he figures that he likes them. I'm beginning to wonder if he's the reincarnated tickle monster." Despite how embarrassed he was about Angelo seeing him being nudged around by a dog, Logan laughed at Angelo's joke. He'd actually laughed. He'd never found the jokes of other kids funny before. Angelo really was different from everyone else.

"All right, either of you want anything?" the manager asked.

"A chocolate milkshake, please," Angelo replied. "And a bowl of water for my dog." He handed over some money and paid.

"On it," the manager replied. As the manager prepared a milkshake for Angelo, Pepsi turned on his owner, sticking his head under the now unzipped raincoat and swiftly finding the soft, sensitive stomach underneath. A few licks later, and Angelo was giggling louder than Logan ever had.

 _I can't believe one person can be so ticklish. The poor guy has even less resistance against Pepsi than me,_ Logan thought, as Angelo tried to push Pepsi away. The giggles became laughter quite quickly in the deserted café, with nobody but Logan and the highly amused manager there to witness the adorable scene.

"Pepsi! Stop, stop! Get down!" Angelo laughed, leaning on the table as his body was racked with laughter. "Down, boy! Down!" Logan bit back a smile and Angelo noticed. "Logan, what's so funny?"

"So I'm not the only one who has to deal with your tickle monster of a dog," Logan remarked, grinning. "Does this always happen to you?" Angelo was barely able to nod before dissolving into laughter. Pepsi, oblivious to it all, started licking the boy's face. Logan took a sneaky picture of the boy's ordeal. He wouldn't use it to blackmail the guy (that was cruel and immoral), just keep it to laugh at a little whenever his day was getting a little dark.

"Pepsi, that's gross! Ugh, now my face is going to be covered in gross, sticky dog saliva," Angelo complained, finally mustering the strength to push the Golden Retriever away. "Pepsi, sit." He sat down, tail wagging strongly. Logan got him some napkins to wipe his face with. "Thanks, Logan. Now I'm going to smell like you, Pepsi. You're never going to know how annoying this is. It's not like people come over and lick you!" Pepsi scratched his ear with his back leg, before looking at Angelo and Logan with a big, goofy, doggy smile. "Dammit! I can't get mad at him when he looks like this and he knows it!" Logan lost it. He collapsed into helpless, happy laughter, and laughed harder than he'd ever done since he was a kid. This had to be the funniest thing he'd ever seen!

"Who's doing the training here, the dog or the teenager?" Logan asked, snickering at Angelo's rapidly reddening face. "I'm beginning to think it might be Pepsi who's really in charge." They were interrupted by the manager, who placed the chocolate milkshake in front of Angelo and a bowl of water in front of Pepsi. As Angelo sipped on his drink, Pepsi drank the water hungrily, spilling the water all over the floor and little droplets getting onto Angelo's shoe. Logan pretended to go through his now soggy book, but it was useless. All the pages were blurred, damp and impossible to read or draw on. Logan dumped the book in a bin and bought a cookie. He was just about to eat it when he heard a whine from Pepsi. He was standing up on his back legs, begging for the cookie that was now halfway on its journey towards Logan's mouth.

"No, Pepsi, you can't have this. Dogs can't eat human food or they'll get sick," Angelo scolded. Pepsi whimpered, getting down on his back feet and staring up at his owner with wide eyes. "Tell you what, Pepsi. You be good and you can have a treat when we get home. You want a treat?" Pepsi jumped up and barked happily, licking Angelo much harder than he had earlier. "Pepsi, no licking!" Angelo laughed, blushing profusely as Logan struggled to contain his laughter at the situation. "Why can't you get enough of embarrassing me in public?" Angelo whined. Logan eventually separated the two with one word.

"Sit," Logan ordered. Pepsi sat down immediately, tail wagging as Angelo stared at Logan in utter disbelief.

"Why can't you listen to me like that?" Angelo whined, staring at the sunny but wet world outside the café . . . wait a minute. "Hey, it's sunny now! We can leave!"

"Hey, you're right!" Logan replied. "I have to go now, Angelo. Good to see you."

"You too, Logan! Bye!" And with that, Angelo tugged on Pepsi's lead to get him moving and began to walk home. Logan walked with him casually. "Logan, do you live round here?" Angelo asked.

"A few streets away," Logan replied, and he wasn't lying. Logan lived only ten minutes away from Ebony Avenue, and the walk to the park wasn't a very long one. "How long have you been here, by the way?"

"Exactly two weeks. I would've been enrolled into school immediately, but we were unpacking and it took a few days for us to move in and complete the standard tests the school gave me. I came into school the day after they mailed my timetable and textbooks to me," Angelo explained. Logan nodded. That made plenty of sense. Anyone could tell you that moving house was a serious hassle. And the school they went to always took a long time to process things, which would explain how long it took for their homework and tests to be graded. The longest time Logan could remember a teacher taking to grade papers since his own first day there was a whopping two months, and that record was held by Miss Turrets, which surprised absolutely nobody. They were soon on Ebony Avenue, and to avoid suspicion from Angelo, Logan stayed on one side of the road as Angelo walked over to the other side to his house, tugging on Pepsi's lead to get him moving. The Golden Retriever wanted to stay with Logan and play with him more, but they had to go home. "Pepsi, come on!" Angelo grunted. "We have to go home!" Pepsi growled and held still, lying down.

"Pepsi, go with Angelo, there's a good boy," Logan cooed. Pepsi got up immediately, gave Logan a sloppy lick goodbye, and left. Logan watched as Angelo and Pepsi went into a nice-looking house with a red tile roof and a white door. It was much nicer-looking than his house. He squinted to better see the number next to the door, but there was a bin in front of it. He couldn't see anything. Giving up, he went home. He'd just wasted hours he'd never get back.

But for some reason, he didn't want to get them back. The time he'd spent with Angelo and Pepsi in a café in the rain had been fun. Maybe he had a shot of finding a friend in his messed-up school after all.

* * *

When he went home, he fixed himself a grilled cheese sandwich and thought about what he'd learned about Angelo. Not much, other than that he had a dog and he'd arrived here two weeks ago. He did know the address from seeing Angelo and Pepsi open the door to a house, but he didn't know which house it was from not seeing the house number and he'd probably forget which house it was pretty soon, anyway. He was just flipping the grilled cheese sandwich over so it cooked on both sides when Caleb came in.

"Hey, short stuff!" Logan's biker brother greeted, picking the ginger-haired boy up as if he weighed nothing. "What's new?"

"I just met the new kid," Logan confided. Caleb dropped Logan onto the floor with shock, his eyes wide.

"Finish making the grilled cheese sandwich and tell me everything," he ordered.

"Two things I want to know: why do you sound like a twelve-year-old girl and why do you want me to finish the sandwich before I tell you stuff?" Logan asked.

"I don't want you to set the smoke alarms off all over the house by burning it and letting you get hurt will make me a bad big brother to my little Logan," Caleb told him. "And pardon me for wanting to know what's going on around me! So, what's he like?"

"He's confusing," Logan admitted. "He's not a loner like me because he actually seems to like being around other people. Not the sporty type, and not preppy, either. He's smart and dresses neatly, so I thought he'd turn out to be a geek, but no geek would openly defy Miss Turrets' infamous 'introduce yourself to the class' scheme. I'd have thought he was a typical pretty boy, but he hasn't gone near any of the girls he's met! He fits into precisely no group at all. I don't know what he is!"

"I never thought I'd hear about someone refusing to do what Miss Turrets said," Caleb remarked. "She taught me when I was there and she was evil. Good to know someone's resisting against her."

"I know. It was epic," Logan sighed, settling into the sofa and relaxing. The sofa was warm and soft, and it had been a crazy day. Some rest would be good for him after his first encounter with Pepsi, the tickle monster in the body of a Golden Retriever.

 _I haven't been able to find out anything useful! It's like every unassuming thing he does stops me in my tracks before I can find anything good about him!_ Logan thought. _I guess I'd have to make friends with him to find this stuff out myself. Wouldn't be that hard, though, he's actually pretty cool and I'm beginning to like him._ He sighed and went to his room to go to sleep. He would need to rest if he was going to find out more.


	5. New enemies

_Monday, April 19th_

* * *

Logan noticed that there were a few things about the students in his school that just seemed . . . different. Off. Logan would have called it out of character, but the crazy school he went to had a lot of odd characters, students and teachers alike, so it was hard to tell what was out of character and what wasn't. The normally quiet, submissive nerdy kids suddenly seemed really mad about something, snapping at everyone they came across. Nobody knew what was wrong with them and nobody cared because . . . well, they were nerds, the lowest rung in the social ladder. And the nerds at Willowdale Secondary School always seemed angry about something; what was one more thing added to the list?

Also, the girls in his grade were beginning to be a lot less focused on schoolwork. They had another thing on their minds: Angelo Riva, 'the hot new boy' who was unknowingly stealing girls' hearts. This made the male portion of the student body livid, and they now had a score to settle with Angelo. Logan had a bad feeling that this wouldn't end well for his newest, only and most confusing friend.

There was a gang of boys at school who fancied themselves to be the toughest guys in the school. They called themselves the Red Bandanas, because that was what all the members wore around their necks and heads. Usually they went after the nerds for getting them into trouble or giving them more work to do, but now they had a new target on their radar: Angelo Riva. Nobody stole girls from them and got away with it, and certainly not some new kid.

"Hey, new kid!" one guy (presumably their leader) yelled, walking the rest of the group around so that Angelo could see them. He made a little show of tightening the bandana, and the other three adjusted theirs. "You've got some explaining to do!"

"OK. What do you want me to explain?" Angelo asked.

"You need to tell us why all the girls are suddenly all in love with you! They've gone nuts!" his right hand man clarified. "Some of those girls are already spoken for, you know that?"

"No, I didn't know that they had boyfriends and I'm not trying to steal anyone's girlfriend," Angelo answered nonchalantly. "None of them ever mentioned having boyfriends when they talked to me."

"Don't know why they want you, if I'm honest," a third boy sneered. "You've got nothing on us, you hear me? Nothing." People snickered at Angelo, who didn't seem to notice anything. Or maybe he just pretended to be fine. Logan pitied Angelo's innocence about school gangs and cliques; he wished that he still had a similar amount of faith in his peers.

"You know what? I think you're right," their leader smirked, as they closed in on Angelo like hungry sharks circling a lone surfer. The fourth guy, who hadn't said anything yet, grabbed Angelo in an uncomfortably tight bear hug and grinned nastily. He looked like a snake smiling at a mouse before he ate it.

"Why would they go for a guy like you?" the fourth boy mocked. "Most girls like guys with a bit of muscle, and you're built just like a twig. See?" And with that, Angelo's shirt was yanked off of him in front of the crowd of teenagers, only to reveal . . . a solid six-pack and muscled arms.

Angelo wasn't the scrawny nerd his clothes made him look, not by a long shot. He clearly did a lot of exercise in his spare time, and he had the body to show for it. Girls squealed and drooled over him, and the embarrassed Red Bandanas cursed their mistake as people wolf-whistled. How could they possibly be stupid enough to make their rival look better then they did? Logan was just glad that Angelo wouldn't be beaten up.

The students were interrupted by the arrival of a teacher named Mrs Martinez, but everyone knew her as Mrs Megaphone, and for good reason. "What is the meaning of this?" she bellowed, living up to her nickname. "Why does that student have no shirt?" The Red Bandanas looked at each other nervously; they'd been caught red-handed. What could they possibly say to get themselves out of this one?

Angelo took charge while the Red Bandanas stood around and stared at the mess they'd made. "I'm awfully sorry, madam, but you're mistaken," Angelo smiled, showing off a set of gleaming white teeth. "This was just horseplay that got a little out of hand, and my shirt ended up being taken off me in the chaos." Everyone looked at each other in shock, whispering to each other. Surely Mrs Megaphone wouldn't believe such an excuse?

Apparently, she would. "And this really happened?" she clarified, looking at the gang of boys. They nodded, looking like the scared schoolboys they were. "Very well. I'll let you off. And make sure the next time I see you, you are adequately clothed!" She yelled the last part really loudly, making a few kids giggle. "And give the boy his shirt back this instant!" she ordered. One of their lackeys sheepishly handed over Angelo's crumpled T-shirt, muttering an apology. Angelo took it and put it back on, as calm as anything. It was as if they hadn't been squaring up for a fight at all, and it was just an ordinary break in an ordinary school.

"I guess that's it, ma'am. Have a good day," Angelo smiled, as he went to get his stuff from another of the Red Bandanas. Mrs Martinez nodded and left. People started to mutter and giggle about the Red Bandanas, who all looked pretty embarrassed. This was not going to be good for their reputation. Angelo calmly went back to Logan, who was shocked. How could Angelo lie like that? It sounded so convincing and came so easily for him, and it was on the spot, too. It beggared belief, and the redhead was still trying to figure it out as Angelo got his bag and left.

"How did you learn how to do that?" Logan questioned, pulling Angelo aside. The raven-haired boy looked at Logan and shrugged.

"I had to do it a lot at my old school," he replied. "I got bullied a lot there, but not by kids like them. The bullying was done by another crowd."

"What crowd would that be?" Logan asked. Angelo tensed up and stuck his hands into his pockets. "You don't want to talk about it, do you?" Angelo shook his head, looking at the floor. "Fair enough."

When they walked into the classroom, Logan realized that the class' reaction to Angelo had changed. Sure, some kids were still rather indifferent to his presence, but some people seemed to actually like him now. But he also seemed to have enemies, more specifically the few nerds of the class. They looked at both of them with contempt, like Angelo had been stolen from them and Logan was some sort of evil traitor. The teens tried to get to their seats, but they were blocked by two nerds. One was fairly tall and obese, with mousy brown hair and food-stained clothes. The other was a short, scrawny kid who was barely five feet tall and had greasy blonde hair. He wore his checked green and blue sweater with white long-sleeved polo shirt with pride. Angelo was repulsed by both of them. The nerdy two, in Angelo's eyes, were nicknamed Dorito Kid and Knockoff Draco.

"What did you do to get him, Logan?" Dorito Kid snapped, as he angrily snacked on a bag of Doritos. "Miss Turrets chose you. Why?"

"But you know why. I'm the only one who doesn't have a record for fighting and stuff. She told us!" Logan yelled. "Why can't you understand that?"

"But why should it be you?" Knockoff Draco sneered. "Having no record basically makes you neutral, a nobody. You haven't done anything bad, but you definitely haven't done anything good either. And we've certainly never been caught fighting. I - we have records for raising money for the school and escorting important people like the town mayor of the whole of Willowdale around school." He said mayor rather smugly, like he was suddenly royalty for doing this. "There's really no point in leaving you with someone like him. You're . . . the wrong sort. Any new student here would need much better guidance than what you can provide for him." He then turned to Angelo with a sickly sweet smile on his face, like he was an angel trying to bring Angelo to the light and out of the darkness. "Come with us, Angelo. Surely you can tell a bad influence when you see one."

"Of course I can tell a bad influence when I see one! That's why I'm not sitting near you!" Angelo pointed out. People laughed and whooped.

"BURN!" some kids at the back hollered. Knockoff Draco rolled his eyes.

"Whatever. We should have known better than to pick someone who already has a reputation for breaking rules and associating with imbeciles like _them!_ " Knockoff Draco hissed, pointing at the group of rowdy teenage boys at the back . . . who had suddenly gotten out of their chairs. Angelo and Logan noticed, but the snobby nerds didn't.

"You shouldn't call them that, you know," Angelo told the pair. "Something tells me you'll regret it." The two looked at each other, then at Angelo and Logan . . . and laughed in their faces.

"You idiots! What they don't know can't hurt them and won't hurt me," Dorito Kid said, his smug smile covered in Dorito crumbs. "You two know that, don't you?"

"I suppose we have another reason for not having you around. You are such an imbecile, just the rest of these losers," Knockoff Draco sniggered. Angelo and Logan looked behind them at the livid teenagers, looked at each other and laughed. "What's so funny?" the blond nerd snapped.

"You should look behind you for once in your life," Angelo smiled. The two nerds looked back at the sea of livid faces staring at them, and glared at Angelo.

"Why didn't you warn us, you twits?" Dorito Kid hissed. "You two were able to see them the entire time!"

"You set us up, you know that? The principal will hear about this!" Knockoff Draco yelled. After that outburst, he leaned back in his chair, his smug smile back on his face. "What do you have to say to that, Angelo?"

"I'll tell him that I felt there was no way an imbecile like me could have possibly been able to explain such a thing to a guy who once showed the mayor around school," Angelo told him. "Now if you'll excuse me, me and my friend were going to sit down in our seats, while you two talk to all of your new friends. Bye, you two!" The two snobby nerds gulped as they looked at their angry classmates, who were cracking their knuckles with anticipation. They were in so much trouble, and they knew it all too well. But they were saved by the arrival of Miss Turrets, who slammed the door on the wall when she opened it, spooking the students who had gotten up to flow back to their places like water. Dorito Kid and Knockoff Draco were safe . . . for now.

"What was all of that commotion about?" Miss Turrets barked, letting a beady eye sweep over the room. "I'd better not hear a word out of any of you while I'm doing the register, you hear?" Assuming the awkward atmosphere acted as a 'yes', Miss Turrets started the register. Angelo sat up straight to listen to the whole of the register, matching names to faces and voices. This gave the girls false hope that if he was looking at them for a few seconds, maybe he was interested after all. But once they saw him looking at all the other girls, they started feeling insecure. What if Angelo liked one of them better than he liked her? Did Angelo even like any of the girls here? For fuck's sake, did Angelo even like girls, period?

When the bell went, Angelo asked Logan for directions to his chemistry class. Logan tolerated it, since Angelo still didn't completely know his way around. So he told Angelo where the chemistry class was, and sent him on his way. Angelo waved cheerily, accidentally walked into a girl and apologized profusely to her, which she blushed about. Logan didn't think anything of Angelo's question and figured that was that. Another few weeks of explaining where to go, and Angelo wouldn't need him any more. He'd go back to being the loner that drew things and Angelo would end up finding some new friends who were more like him and hang out with them, laughing about how stupid a decision it was to put him with a loner like Logan.

* * *

At break, Logan couldn't find Angelo anywhere. He walked by the typical detention rooms: nothing. The courts where the sporty kids would hang out: nothing. But then he got to the library, and he saw something shocking. Dorito Kid and Knockoff Draco were back, and they were picking on Angelo as he tried to do some chemistry homework. "You know, Angelo, you should really find a better place to hang out while you're here," Knockoff Draco simpered. "The library is a place for people who - well, want to learn. And you don't seem to hold any interest in academia."

"How can I be someone who doesn't hold any interest in my academic career when I am right here doing my homework?" Angelo asked, confused. "That makes no sense."

"You know what else doesn't make sense? How you knew all the answers to the teacher's questions, that's what doesn't make sense," Dorito Kid snarled, getting in Angelo's face.

"How did you do it, huh? Did you use your notes? Look at someone else's answers? Check with the book?" The two snickered to each other, and Logan decided to step in.

"Hey, Angelo, couldn't find you anywhere. So, you sort out your differences with these two and became friends?" Logan asked. That set them off.

"Me? Friends with this loser? You're nuts!" Knockoff Draco scoffed, as he casually waltzed off. Dorito Kid waddled off after him. "Come on, Reuben, let's go. The library's standards are clearly sliding if they're letting those people through the doors." 'Those people' of course, were Logan and Angelo. Once they were gone, Angelo sighed and printed off the homework, focusing on the whirring of the old printer as it spat out his homework.

"What a day," Angelo sighed. "I figured I'd get bullied at my new school for something, but I never thought it would be about how I did in class."

"I didn't think that was something people could possibly bully you about," Logan admitted, sitting next to Angelo. "You're OK, right?"

"Yeah," Angelo replied, letting out a sigh that he honestly didn't know he was holding in. "I know the kid who always seems to be eating something is called Reuben because that's what he answered to, but what's the name of the guy who looks like a knockoff Draco Malfoy and brags about being such a good student?" Logan spluttered, and started laughing. The librarian, a sour-faced, thin, bespectacled old lady, frowned at them for causing so much noise, even though they were the only students in the library.

"Knockoff Draco Malfoy? That's a new nickname for Maxwell!" Logan giggled. "I wish I'd thought of that one!"

"Tough luck; I called it," Angelo replied smugly. "And there's nothing you can do about it."

"The only reason you say that is because we don't have Pepsi here with us," Logan teased. Angelo blushed a dark shade of red and looked away, his nerves tingling with the thought of what Pepsi would be like. Logan knew after a very, very short time that Pepsi was basically the reincarnated tickle monster in the form of a lovable, dorky Golden Retriever. And since Pepsi answered better to Logan than to Angelo, despite having known Angelo for much longer, it would be pretty easy for Logan to set Pepsi on him and make his friend howl with ticklish laughter. "I knew that would shut you up, Angelo," Logan snickered, grinning wolfishly.

"Oh, shut up," Angelo muttered. Then the bell rang. "Great, another class. What is it now?"

"Isn't it History next?" Logan asked. Angelo checked his timetable, and nodded. "Let's go." As they walked, they bumped into the same four Red Bandanas. Those four apparently liked to walk around in one big herd, only splitting up to go to different lessons or different detentions. People were already whispering in anticipation, waiting for a fight to go down. Angelo stopped walking, waiting for the Red Bandanas to make the first move. They did, the biggest guy starting it, as usual.

"Hey . . . uh, new guy, what's your name?" he asked, a little sheepishly. Angelo was confused.

"Angelo," the perplexed boy responded. "Why?"

"Well, I need to talk to you. Thanks for not ratting us out to Mrs Megaphone back there. We won't bother you again. Got that?" Angelo nodded, the Red Bandanas nodded back, and they went their separate paths. People were whispering loudly, pointing at Angelo and nudging each other.

"This is weird. One minute they want to fight, the next they're normal? What's going on?"

"Does that mean Angelo won or did they win? Is this a draw? I'm confused."

"Oh, join the club!"

"Why is this such a talking point?" Angelo asked. "I thought they beat people up all the time."

"They do," Logan answered. "It's just that they've never talked to anyone like they talked to you just now. It's a little freaky to them."

"Oh, that makes sense . . . a little bit of sense, anyway," Angelo said. "Let's just go. I don't want to be late for history." They ran to the history classroom, arriving just on time. The teacher, a fairly young lady who wore a long black dress, looked at them sternly.

"You're on time . . . just," she stated. "One minute longer, and you would have had a late mark." Then she started properly studying Angelo's features. "You must be the new student. Andrew, right?"

"It's Angelo," Angelo corrected.

"Right. The newest student. I am Miss Hollins. There's a spare seat next to Maxwell, so you can go there. I'll get you an exercise book," Miss Hollins told him. She spoke in a clipped, matter-of-fact tone to both boys. Angelo looked at Maxwell, who looked away with what has to be disgust. Reuben wasn't there, which was a relief. Angelo didn't think that he'd be able to handle both of them for the whole hour. The two of them would undoubtedly send him mad. But there was only so much Maxwell could do to him without attracting attention from either the teacher or other students, who seemed to be getting to like him. Nevertheless, Maxwell resolved to make Angelo's school life hell in every minute that they were forced to share together. And it would have to start now.

As Angelo took notes of what Miss Hollins said, Maxwell would whisper loudly to fellow nerds, who seemed to be in on his scheme. "Angelo, stop talking! I can't concentrate!" A bunch of kids looked at Angelo, then at Maxwell, confused at first and then angry. Maxwell was trying to get Angelo in trouble!

"Yeah, Angelo, stop talking!" another nerd chimed in, with a cruel grin on his face. "You're being too loud!" The good news for the nerds was that Miss Hollins noticed them immediately. The bad news for the nerds was that she had seen the whole thing, could tell that they were bullying Angelo, and she punished them for it and not him.

"Maxwell, Courtney, leave Angelo alone and stop trying to get him into trouble in his first history lesson," Miss Hollins instructed. A few kids giggled at the two nerds with their hands caught in the cookie jar. Others glared at the duo trying to get the new kid into trouble when he hadn't even been here two weeks. Maxwell put on a winning smile and tried to explain everything away. Teachers couldn't help but believe him. But not this time.

"But Miss Hollins, Angelo wouldn't stop talking and it was really distracting-" Maxwell lied with his best smile, but Miss Hollins cut him off.

"Don't try that with me, Maxwell, I saw and heard the whole thing," Miss Hollins interrupted. "Angelo didn't say a word to anyone. Now, are you going to continue getting Angelo into trouble and force me to send you to the head of the history department, or would you like the lesson to continue as planned?"

"I'd like the lesson to continue," Maxwell muttered, sinking into his seat with humiliation as other students laughed at him. He tried to continue taking notes, but he couldn't concentrate any more. He doubted his day would get any better, since the next lesson was double PE and that was always hell for unfit nerds like Maxwell. And he'd have to deal with that new kid Angelo, who had just (unintentionally) humiliated him for the second time that day. Yeah, today was not his day.

* * *

At lunch, hiding out in the library to avoid the vast majority of the school, he sought out Reuben to find ways of ruining Angelo's school life as much as possible. His chunky sycophant came a little later than when he was called, shoving curly fries into his mouth like no tomorrow. "Maxwell, why do you want to see me? I thought you were busy," Reuben asked. His voice was muffled by the fries in his mouth.

"Oh, I moved a few things around," Maxwell replied airily. (Really, he had never been busy today, he was just really bored of Reuben and wanted to be alone in a place where nobody would want to follow him.) "Anyway, I asked you to be here so I could talk to you about that rude new kid, Angelo. Remember him?"

"Oh, the new kid who rejected us for some loner," Reuben snarled, spraying Maxwell with some saliva-coated chunks of chewed-up curly fries. Maxwell wiped it off his face with disgust. "What about him?"

"He's getting far too big for his boots," Maxwell snapped. "Don't you remember the way he talked to us?"

Reuben nodded, his jowls wobbling and third chin bobbing up and down. "What do we do about it? I say we get those Red Bandana kids onto him."

"But then they'd beat us up, too," Maxwell told him. "You want a repeat of last week?"

"No," Reuben muttered, as he took out a big bottle of soda and started chugging it. Maxwell cringed at the sight of tiny rivers of soda running down his lackey's fat face and disappearing into the folds of his three chins, and Reuben noticed. "What? I need some energy for PE class." This innocent comment gave Maxwell a brainwave.

"PE class! That's it!" Maxwell grinned. "We'll pair him up with the kids who don't like us! I'm a genius! That imbecile Angelo will be utterly humiliated!" Maxwell let out an evil laugh while Reuben grinned. Well, it would have sounded evil, if Maxwell didn't have a really high-pitched voice.

* * *

For once, Maxwell came to PE with a smile on his smug, weasel-like face, which people noticed. Reuben also seemed smug, but he was a born lackey, so if he was smug, it probably wasn't his idea in the first place. But Maxwell being smug . . . that was a bad, bad thing. If guys weren't turning away from him with disgust, they had officially turned it into open season for insults.

"Hey, Maxwell! If you get tired running laps, you could pay me to carry you!" one guy hollered. The locker room roared with laughter.

"Shut up, morons," Maxwell muttered under his breath, as he picked out a corner spot to change, scanning the changing room. No Angelo . . . yet.

Then Angelo came into the changing room with his normal school bag and a drawstring bag filled with what had to be his gym clothes. Logan came with him, taking the spot next to his. He didn't say a word to anyone as he changed, keeping himself to himself. Angelo hummed a slight tune as he changed, which annoyed Maxwell enough to snap his fingers at him. He also whistled a few times. Eventually, someone nudged Angelo's shoulder and pointed at Maxwell. "Hey, new kid, I think Moneybags wants to talk to you," he muttered. "He's over there." Angelo looked at Maxwell quizzically, while Maxwell rolled his eyes and snickered.

"Finally, you answered. For a moment there, I thought you were deaf!" Maxwell remarked. A few boys chuckled. "Why didn't you answer the first time?"

"Well, with all the whistling and clicking you were doing, I thought you were calling a dog, not a person," Angelo remarked. More people laughed, and Maxwell turned red with embarrassment and anger. "Now, what do you want to talk to me about?"

"You were humming and it was annoying me. Don't do it again," Maxwell ordered. "It's probably the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"That's it?" Angelo asked. "You could have just told me so, straight up. Just say, 'Hey, Angelo, knock it off'. That's literally it. No need for whistling."

"Well, you should've answered me the first time," Maxwell huffed, as he continued to change. Angelo had already changed into gym clothes and was reading a book without a care in the world. Maxwell was about to let out a growl of frustration, but calmed down just in time. _Easy, Maxwell,_ he thought to himself. _When the coach puts people into teams, he'll be annihilated._ He was startled out of his daydream when the coach, a big guy wearing a tracksuit, burst into the changing room.

"All right, boys, get out of the changing rooms and meet me on the tracks," he bellowed. "If I hear any whining, you can all do twenty extra push-ups as a warm-up!" The guys sighed as they walked over to the race track. Angelo followed the pack of teenage boys onto a track field, and joined in with the push-ups that the coach had ordered. "You, stop!" the coach yelled, pointing at Angelo. People stared as Angelo stopped doing push-ups and looked at him. "There's something different about you, kid. What is it?"

"I'm the new kid, sir," Angelo replied. The coach nodded.

"Angelo Riva, right?" the coach asked. Angelo nodded. "I'm Coach Hurley." He stuck out a hand, and Angelo shook it. "Now, kid, some things you will want to know about my PE lessons is that they are mixed. Also, once a month, I will put you into two groups and time you as you run ten laps around the arena, one group at a time. Once you have finished running the ten laps, you will tell me your time and I'll write it down. Everyone knows the drill. Except for you." He singled Angelo out with the last sentence, making some of the sportier kids chuckle. "There will be a group A and group B. Line up so I can sort you." As the class lined up, he put people into either group A and Group B. Angelo and Logan were in Group A; Maxwell and Reuben were in group B. "A, you're going first. B, you get to rest until everyone in group A is done. On your marks . . . get set . . . go!"

Everyone in group A started to run, with the athletic kids taking the lead, the unfit nerds at the back and Logan making sure to stay in the middle. Angelo, however, was forging ahead enough to be just behind the athletic kids. and in front of the losers who never did any exercise. Sometimes, he would actually be right next to the athletic kids; other times he was just behind them. Logan was in shock. Was Angelo in a school sports team in his old school? If not, how was he this fast? He elected to ask about it later, once he was done running laps.

As Group A ran laps, Maxwell fumed to Reuben about how his plan had failed. "This shouldn't be happening!" he scowled, quietly throwing a tantrum. "I thought we'd be doing basketball or soccer or even some stupid relay where the students would be picking teams. Why did it have to be stupid, stupid laps? And Angelo's good at that, too! Always smiling, teachers like him! The other kids like him! I hate him! I hate him!" The moment Coach Hurley wasn't looking, Maxwell took Angelo's bottle of water and threw it on the floor, stamping on it with pure rage as if it was the real Angelo. The water spurted out of the opening and side and formed a puddle, but he didn't care. Maxwell stamped on the water bottle until it was a crumpled heap of plastic, and even then, he wasn't done punishing it. He then picked it up and threw it on the floor. It was perfectly fine, until he heard the thundering sound of feet coming closer and closer. Group A were collectively on the final lap. The weary boys were telling Coach Hurley their times, and Maxwell tried to hear Angelo's time. He didn't quite get it, but Coach Hurley liked the look of it.

"This is impressive, Angelo," Coach Hurley reported to Angelo, who smiled wearily. "I'd like to ask, were you in a sports team at your old school? Because this is really good."

"No, I didn't qualify for my old school's sports team," Angelo replied. Logan, listening to this, was confused. Angelo was really good; how was he not allowed to be on a school sports team? Maxwell became smug: now he had proof that Angelo wasn't so perfect after all. Coach Hurley had to dismiss it as he took the finishing times of everyone else in Group A. Then reality hit the nerdy boys like a slap to the face: this meant that Group B had to do laps next. And they were in Group B.

"All right, Group B; get ready!" Coach Hurley yelled. "On your marks . . . get set . . . go!" Group B took off, leaving Maxwell and Reuben at the very back. Maxwell tried to get further in front, not because he didn't want to be at the back, but because he had to be in front of his lackey. That wouldn't be hard; Reuben hadn't benefited from the soda he'd had before the lesson, and he huffed and puffed all the way through the ten laps, stopping every twenty or so steps to catch his breath. Maxwell didn't stop until he got a stitch, and then he collapsed onto the track in pain. Reuben waddled over to check on his friend, and Maxwell snapped at him.

"What are you doing, you idiot?" Maxwell snapped, half of his face feeling like it was permanently embedded into the track. "You're embarrassing me! Just keep running laps!"

"Sorry!" Reuben squeaked, as he waddled away. Maxwell growled in frustration as he tried to get up, but failed. He could hear people laughing at him, and he burned with shame and anger as he eventually got up to do more torturous laps. He felt a little better after he got further than the walking sack of flesh that he called his friend, but he was still at the back.

While this was going on, Angelo and Logan were getting their breath back. "I hate these laps," Logan complained. "All they do is serve as a reminder of how fit you have to be to run this place. And I always end up feeling a little dizzy from running for so long."

"So it's not just exercise?" Angelo asked. "Then why does Coach Hurley do it?"

"To give it to the nurse so she can give some stupid health report once every two months," Logan explained, as Angelo wiped sweat off his forehead. "You have water, right?"

"Yeah, I put some right . . . over . . . there?" Angelo trailed off as he scanned the row of sports bottles for his own water bottle. He couldn't see it. "Huh? Where's it gone? Oh, I must have left it in my bag. Is there a water fountain anywhere, Logan?" Logan pointed out a nearby water fountain, and Angelo breathed a sigh of relief as he rushed off, gulping the water down. Eventually, he came back with a relieved look on his face . . . and water on his shirt.

"Dude, you look like you got a bucket of water poured on your head," Logan pointed out. Angelo didn't care.

"If anyone asks, this is all sweat. And it'll dry off soon, anyway," Angelo replied, as he went to lay down . . . right on top of a flattened water bottle. "Huh?" He sat up and checked where his head had been lying, finding the water bottle that Maxwell had discarded. "Hey, who flattened my water bottle?"

"Well, it had to be someone in group B," Logan pointed out. "It can't be anyone in our group, because we were running laps at the time."

"You're right," Angelo sighed. "Maybe someone made some sort of mistake and thought the bottle was someone else's. Oh, no matter. It's recyclable anyway, and I'll just get water from the water fountain." Both teens rested in silence, enjoying each other's company. They daydreamed as Group B reported their times, and Angelo was proven right: Angelo was almost completely dried off, with barely any sweat on him.

Maxwell and Reuben, on the other hand, were both drenched in sweat. Their gym clothes clung to their skin, exaggerating the difference between their vastly different body shapes. Reuben's shirt clung to each and every fat roll he possessed, and Maxwell's shirt seemed to only make him look scrawnier as it only clung to his shoulders and arms. Coach Hurley wasn't happy with their times.

"Both of you have gotten worse since the last time we did laps," Coach Hurley chided. "This will not look good on your health report."

"Yes, sir," the nerds replied. Maxwell was still silently seething with anger at Angelo. He was certain that Angelo was laughing at them for taking so long when he hadn't needed as much time. The blonde nerd silently swore revenge as he trudged into the changing rooms. As Maxwell walked past Angelo in the changing room, he 'accidentally' bumped into him and swept all his stuff onto the floor for Reuben to step on as he came by.

"Hey!" Angelo yelped. Maxwell smirked.

"Shouldn't have put all your stuff on the edge, then, should you?" he replied. Reuben grinned.

"You could at least not step on it!" Angelo argued, as he picked his stuff up off the floor and dusted it off. "Hell, maybe, if you don't see it as being beneath you, you could help clean up the mess you made?"

"Don't make me laugh," Maxwell snarled. Angelo sighed, packed up his stuff and got changed quickly. He was one of the first people out of the changing rooms. Logan followed Angelo out. There was still so much about Angelo that he either didn't know or confused him. He got out of school just in time to see Angelo being picked up by an older guy, only a few years older than them, who had Pepsi on a leash. Logan assumed that this was an older brother, a friend or maybe a cousin of his. It had to be a relative of some kind, or Angelo wouldn't go with him. Logan figured that he should just get home. He could ask Angelo if he had siblings later.

* * *

Meanwhile, Maxwell was alone in his room, plotting. He didn't know who Angelo thought he was, but he didn't like the look of him. He had insulted him twice in one day, and he couldn't allow a third. It was time to expose what Angelo was hiding, whatever it was.


	6. Many foiled plans

_Time skip: from Tuesday, April 23rd to Friday, April 26th_

* * *

Angelo had become used to the school's routine and didn't need Logan's help with getting around anymore. However, he was still hanging around with him, which was surprising, but ultimately a good thing for the lonely redhead. People were slowly getting used to Angelo, especially the girls. Angelo blushed at the female attention, which didn't help to repel them. Apparently, shy guys looked considerably cuter than their brash, cocky counterparts. Logan got used to teasing Angelo about all the attention and Angelo got used to teasing him back about being single, and it made them friends. Not best buddies or anything, but still friends.

Meanwhile, Maxwell and Reuben, but mostly Maxwell, had been plotting how to take down Angelo so he either wasn't as popular any more or got into trouble. (Maxwell refused to let his dim-witted sidekick do any evil plotting, in case he had ideas above his station or screwed things up.) They'd been trying everything to get him to slip up or do something embarrassing, and it didn't work. Angelo had accidentally been dodging every last one of them.

On Tuesday, Maxwell placed (more accurately, Maxwell ordered Reuben to place) a bucket of slime above the door of the tutor room in an attempt to hit Angelo with it and humiliate him. However, it ended up hitting Miss Turrets instead. Well, since there was no way it could hit Angelo now, Maxwell then tried to frame him for it by saying he saw Angelo leave the classroom earlier. But then Logan had to open his mouth and say that he hadn't seen Angelo all day. And to make matters worse, it turned out that he was right; Angelo had been marked as ill. Maxwell quickly changed his story and said he thought it was Angelo, but was too far away to tell. It got him off the hook . . . barely.

On Wednesday, Maxwell planned to steal Angelo's homework from his bag when he wasn't paying attention to it and write the wrong answers on it so he got a low mark or even (fingers crossed) a detention. But that plan was unintentionally foiled when Angelo emailed his work to the teacher instead. Maxwell lost his own and got a lunchtime detention, which earned him a day of exile from his nerdy friends. Good little nerds didn't forget things like homework.

On Thursday, Maxwell instructed Reuben to place baited food in Angelo's locker for him to eat and later become sick. Angelo didn't want to keep it to himself and wanted to share it with his classmates. To avoid suspicion, Maxwell ate three of them and became violently sick. He had to be picked up by his mother during lunch.

On Friday, it was finally decided that anyone who shared Maxwell's (negative) sentiments about one Angelo Riva should pretend he didn't exist. This included the majority of the nerds of the school and a few paranoid boyfriends, but the ones that happened to share any of Angelo's classes were rather rude to him. However, after Maxwell's earlier failure, they decided to keep it on the downlow. Something any nerd feared while in school was being reprimanded or (even worse) punished. Punishments were for the other kids who weren't quite as smart as them and couldn't either keep out of trouble or talk their way out of a situation. Detention halls were a taboo area for nerds. However, Angelo happened to be pretty good at holding his own with insults and using logic against them, much to the nerds' chagrin.

"Hey, Angelo, just heard that you didn't qualify for the sports team in your old school. Not Mr. Perfect after all, huh?" Reuben snickered. "In fact, were you ever in a sports team?"

"No, I wasn't," Angelo responded calmly. Just as Reuben was about to turn to Maxwell with a smug smirk, Angelo asked, "Were you?" People laughed and Reuben glared at him.

"Shut up, new guy! Being in a sports team isn't equal to success! Just look at me; I get straight As and I was never in a sports team," Maxwell boasted. The smug grin that had evaporated from Reuben's face had magically reappeared.

"If being in a sports team is nothing to do with success, then why did Reuben say that me not being in a sports team makes me imperfect? Sounds a little hypocritical, right?" Angelo asked, as he went to his next lesson away from the vindictive nerds. Maxwell seethed as people laughed at him. Angelo, however, was high-fived all through the corridor. Logan walked with him.

"How do you know so many insults?" Logan asked.

"My older brother taught me those," Angelo replied. "He'd try teasing me with these lines, and I'd have to tease him back with whatever I could think of off the top off my head. It was his way of preparing me for school and bullies and stuff."

"I didn't know you had a brother," Logan replied, while joining up the dots. _Well, that explains what I saw after school on Monday,_ he thought.

"Well, you never asked," Angelo replied, grinning. "I'm not a mind-reader, you know!"

"But apparently, you used to be Mr. Perfect," Logan teased. The two laughed all the way to English, which was going to be a Maxwell-free zone for a whole, glorious hour. Interpreting poetry never looked so inviting.

* * *

At break, Angelo was subjected to question after question about his brother by Logan. "How much older is he than you?" Logan asked.

"There's a five-year age gap," Angelo answered.

"Does he live with you?" Logan quizzed.

"No, he moved out to be closer to his base," Angelo replied. "Lives in a tiny flat now. Visits every once in a while, calls every day."

"Do you have any other siblings?" Logan asked.

"I have a little sister who just turned five years old," Angelo replied. Then a curious look found its way onto Angelo's face. "Wait. Why are you so interested, anyway?" Logan panicked; was Angelo catching on? Did he know that he was trying to find out as much as he could about him. He had to think fast with the excuses.

"Well, you said that if anyone had any questions to ask you, then we could just ask you," Logan hurriedly babbled. "And besides, we barely know anything about you. For all we know, you could be living with robots and you're just pretending that they're your parents." Angelo laughed.

"Robots? In my house? That's insane!" Angelo laughed, secretly nervous. "Where did you search that up and how did you make it not look suspicious?" Logan laughed too, his muscles relaxing. He was safe.

Meanwhile, Maxwell and Reuben were listening to Angelo and Logan's conversation, trying to glean information from their innocent chat. They wanted something to use against him in their fight to make him less popular, but had stumbled upon the perfect way to humiliate him: a simple internet search. Not the most original plan, but after this many failed plans, Maxwell was so desperate for anything to ruin Angelo's popularity that he would take any option he could get. And he didn't have to wait long.

The next lesson was I.T, and since their teacher, Mr Daye, was one of the young teachers that liked to pretend that he was cool, he let them get away with a lot. So people mostly used I.T class to play games, do overdue homework, send emails, or just search up weird teenage stuff. Maxwell knew how to use this to advantage. Today, he deliberately sat next to one of the more unruly kids who enjoyed two things: messing with him and disrupting the class. Maxwell started searching up random students on the internet, and it was soon spotted.

"Hey, nerd, what you doing?" one kid asked, nudging his friends to get their attention. "Homework?" They sniggered.

"No," Maxwell denied, 'accidentally' letting his computer screen be nudged over to the side and allow the kids to see him searching his classmate's names.

"You're searching up other kids' names?" one girl blurted out, attracting everyone's attention. There was an awkward silence, before she exclaimed, "Cool! Who do we search up first?" Now the entire class was on board. This couldn't be any better for Maxwell if he'd taken the script for this lesson and written it himself.

"That sounds like a great idea!" Mr Daye affirmed. "There's a treasure trove of information that you can find about someone on the internet!" (Mr Daye was clearly not a very experienced teacher.)

"Hey, how about we search for Angelo?" a nerdy kid that was too boring and too generic to describe suggested.

"Yeah!" a bunch of teenagers cheered, as they went to search up the name 'Angelo'. However, they forgot to add his surname and instead got the meaning of the name Angelo.

"Hey, why am I getting the definition of Angelo?" a kid whined.

"You need his surname, duh! Type 'Angelo Riva!" Maxwell ordered, and the necessary change was made. Immediately, the class found article after article about Angelo.

_Angelo Riva is discovered to be a child genius after taking standardized test_

_Angelo Riva wins Under-12s Robotics Competition_

_Angelo Riva designs and patents solar-powered, hydraulic car_

_Angelo Riva invents exercise bike that can power the home with kinetic energy_

_Angelo Riva stars on talk show, aged five_

_Angelo Riva accepted into university, aged eleven_

Everyone was freaking out. The idea of a genius going to their school was mind-blowing, to say the least. People were crowding around him, asking questions and getting in his face, while Maxwell sat alone, seething. This was the biggest wrench in his plans yet. Angelo, the back-talking new kid that he had to see every day in his advanced classes, was actually smarter than him? Logan also had questions to ask, but he could tell that now wasn't the time. Angelo looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack.

"Angelo, would you like to go outside for some air?" Logan asked. Angelo nodded, his face scarily pale. The two went outside to a conveniently empty classroom, and Angelo began to hyperventilate. "Angelo, shush. Just take a deep breath, in and out."

"This shouldn't be happening," Angelo panicked. "Oh God, everyone's going to know now!" Logan had never seen his friend like this, and now he was seriously worried about Angelo. Internet searches weren't supposed to send people into full-blown panic attacks.

"Why are you so worried about people knowing about you being a genius?" Logan wanted to know. This was very confusing to him. Most people wouldn't miss an opportunity to rub this in people's faces if it was about them. (*cough* _Maxwell_ *cough*) But Angelo wanted it to be covered up and kept secret. "What for?"

"I had to move here suddenly and went to this school because of safety concerns," Angelo confided. "They wouldn't tell anyone anything. I had to go to a school where nobody knew what I could do and never tell anyone that I was a genius inventor. Well, there goes that plan. Nobody thought about Google betraying me."

"This secret is safe with me," Logan assured. "But what will you tell everyone here? They're all freaking out."

"If anyone asks, I'll tell them that this is because my old school got shut down for tax fraud and everyone moved away," Angelo proposed.

"Right," Logan agreed. "Wanna go back into the classroom? You have a bunch of freaked out students to talk to." Angelo nodded and went with Logan to the classroom, where people screamed in his face.

"How long have you been a genius?"

"Why didn't you tell us about this?"

"Why aren't you going to a special private school for smart kids?"

"Weren't you accepted into university?"

"Easy, easy! One question at a time!" Angelo yelled. Mr Daye decided to become a somewhat competent and authoritative teacher and shoo the other students away. "I've been a genius all my life. I was born that way. I hid this because I wanted to be treated normally and not expected to perform miracles. And me just announcing that I was a genius is the most pretentious thing I could possibly do, even though I'm a certified child prodigy. I'm not going to a special private school because the one I was going to before got shut down for tax fraud and everyone moved away and went to different schools so they didn't get caught up in a scandal. And going to a normal school is my parents' idea so I can learn more about people."

"Did the teachers know?" Maxwell asked, trying not to sound jealous. Here he was, trying to prove that Angelo was an idiot, and it turns out he was a certified genius! It had been proven to him at this point; Angelo Riva had to go. If the teachers knew he was a genius, then he would have to leave. Their little school didn't have the resources to nurture a teenage genius' mind. They barely had the resources to nurture a normal teenager's mind.

"Not as far as I know," Angelo answered, oblivious to Maxwell's ulterior motive to get rid of him. "I don't think my parents told the school about it."

That was all the blonde needed to start his campaign. Being from a lot of money, his parents were on the PTA for the school and had the principal in their back pocket. If he could somehow get them to get the principal to kick Angelo out, his black-haired, genius IQ problem would go away forever. But he couldn't tell Reuben about this, or he'd brag about it to Angelo and ruin his plan.

"Hey, does this mean that you'll have to go to another school?" Reuben grinned. To his surprise, people were actually protesting about the idea. They liked him now.

"No way, he's cool!" a girl cried out, as her friends eagerly shared her sentiments. "And totally hot," she whispered.

"Nah, I like the guy," a rebellious kid admitted. "He may be nerdy enough to do a load of robotics stuff, but at least he's not a snob about it."

"Now, I'm sure that Angelo had his reasons to cover up how much of a genius he was, but let's move on. We have computer codes to construct," Mr. Daye announced, but nobody was listening to him. They were all busy either crowding around Angelo, who was now a school celebrity, or texting their friends about this interesting new development. This juicy bit of gossip was now going all over the school, one character at a time.

* * *

Once lunch rolled around, it was like the whole school knew. People crowded around Angelo, asking him questions that he tried his best to answer before being interrupted by another student asking more questions.

"Hey, back off. I wanted to ask him my question first," one boy snarled.

"Well, I got to him first," another boy grinned, looming over the other guy.

"No, I got to him first!" the first boy snapped. And that's how the fight started. The boys traded insults, but then graduated to blows. As the other students were distracted by the fight, Angelo slipped away to the library.

"Oh, thank God it's you," Angelo sighed. "I've been trying to get away from the other students all lunch. They're crazy."

"I figured that out and I'm not the genius here," Logan replied. "Come on, everyone knows that this school is crazy. And no offence here, but having a certified genius here won't make it any more normal."

"None taken," Angelo replied. "I'm worried about the teachers, though. What if I'm kicked out because they can't provide for a genius?"

"I doubt the school would do that. They need all the good press they can get," Logan reassured. "I mean, with the bullying problems, blatant favouritism towards the children of benefactors and money spent on non-priority things, they've got to have a silver lining somewhere." The two laughed as they ate lunch, happily forgetting about the stress from earlier.

* * *

At the end of the day, Maxwell went home to a house on the more affluent part of Willowdale. A gated community, to be precise. He was greeted by the housekeeper, who took his coat and bags and hung them up on the coat rack. Then he went to search for his parents. There weren't any meetings for either of them to go to, so they had to be in the house.

Maxwell found them in the living room, watching a reality TV series while drinking a green-coloured health smoothie. Maxwell's mother was a blonde-haired, obviously tanned woman. Maxwell's father was also tanned, with brown hair streaked with grey to give him a salt-and-pepper look. He was at least fifteen years older than his wife, and even if he wasn't, he looked like he was. His mother greeted him with a warm smile, her face covered in make-up.

"Maxwell, you're home! How was school, sweetie?" his mother asked.

"Anything interesting happen?" his father asked, before both parents burst into laughter at their 'joke'. "Sorry, son. That's just our little joke. We both know that can't be possible in Willowdale, of all places."

"Actually, something interesting did happen," Maxwell replied. "A new kid arrived in the school, and we just learned that he's a genuine genius! He won a prize for making robots! It's all over the internet!" His parents stared at him, shell-shocked. They weren't laughing now.

"Show me," Maxwell's father commanded. Maxwell dutifully searched for Angelo Riva's name again on his phone, letting his father open and read every article that caught his eye. "And this kid is going to your school, Maxwell? Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes! He even admitted to it!" Maxwell exclaimed. "Mum, Dad, this guy can't continue going to our school! We can't possibly provide for a genius! We can barely provide for normal kids!" Maxwell's parents looked at each other, then their frantic son. Then they had an epiphany, a shared realization.

"Stop him from going to Willowdale's local secondary school? Not in the slightest!" Maxwell's mother exclaimed. "This is nothing short of a miracle!"

"What?" Maxwell yelped. His plan wasn't going to plan.

"I mean, a genius at our school! Why, this is amazing! We could turn this into loads of positive PR for the school! 'Come to the school that was picked above all others by a child prodigy!'" Maxwell's father dreamed aloud. "I even bet we could get more government funding with him walking the halls! Maxwell, this is amazing!"

"Yes, it's amazing," Maxwell reluctantly agreed, still fuming. Now he had their attention on him, he had to get it off him. "Hey, who's that on the TV? Are they kissing or just hugging?"

"Oh my god, honey! Amber is having an affair with Aston, Kylee's boyfriend!" Maxwell's mother gasped.

"But Kylee's Amber's best friend!" Maxwell's father exclaimed. As the two got sucked into the overrated drama series all over again, Maxwell slipped away. If there was nothing he could do to get rid of Angelo while playing by the rules, then he would have to bend them a little. Maybe, if he had no other choice, he'd break a few of them along the way.


	7. Angelo's Saturday

_Saturday, April 27th_

* * *

Angelo woke up unusually early on a Saturday morning to the feeling of his stomach being licked. It tickled a lot, so he began to giggle, squirming around in his bed. Then the Italian youth felt something furry on his skin, and he looked around. Of course! It was the family's Golden Retriever, Pepsi, that woke him up at such an ungodly hour. (Actually, it was 9 AM, but to Angelo, waking up before 11 AM was far too early.)

"Pepsi, no! I want a lie-in! It's Saturday!" Angelo whined. Then he felt a long, ticklish lick trail along his tummy that was swiftly followed by several others, and he burst into giggles. "Ahahahahahaha! Nohoho! Pepsi!" Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the lighting of his room and his vision was no longer blurred. He noticed that Pepsi had taken his lead upstairs. He wanted to go for a walk.

"You're taking Pepsi for a walk, right?" Angelo's five-year-old sister, Mirella, asked as she poked her head into Angelo's room. "I don't think he'll stop until you get out of bed."

"Thanks for the insight, Mirella - ahahahahahahahaha!" Angelo was just about to get a foot out of bed when Pepsi started licking it, covering the sole in drool and making Angelo laugh harder. "OK, I'm up, I'm up! Mirella, call Pepsi off!"

"Pepsi, sit! Sit, boy!" Mirella called. Pepsi sat down obediently. Angelo breathed and got out of bed, grimacing at the feel of sticky, wet drool on his foot, courtesy of the dog.

"And this is why I take a shower at the start of every day," Angelo muttered to himself, as he got a change of clothes and a towel. "Thanks, Pepsi." Pepsi barked happily. Angelo sighed as he went into the bathroom to take a much-needed shower. He refused to spend the entire day smelling like the inside of a dog's mouth. Besides, dogs were awesome, but he didn't want to smell like one.

"Angelo, _mio prezioso_ (1), is that you?" Angelo's mother, Roselle Riva, asked sleepily. "Where are you?"

"I'm taking a shower!" Angelo called. "Where's Pepsi?"

"Pepsi's with me in the kitchen!" Mirella called. "And he really wants to see you!"

"Mirella, you give Pepsi his breakfast while I get changed," Angelo replied, as he showered and got changed. He dried his hair with a towel as he got changed. Then Angelo waltzed downstairs to see Mirella eating cereal while Pepsi buried his face in dog food. The boy genius fixed himself a grilled cheese sandwich and poured himself a glass of water. As he ate, Pepsi tried to do tricks to entertain Angelo. In his canine mind, if he got Angelo to laugh, he could go on a walk earlier. He jumped up and begged for food, whining pitifully in an effort to earn some sympathy from Angelo and Mirella. Mirella giggled and got Pepsi a treat. His trick worked.

"Pepsi, you're so cute," the little girl cooed, scratching the Golden Retriever's furry tummy when he rolled over on the floor. She attached his leash to his collar, too. Angelo grinned at his dog's antics as he ate his cereal.

"You are one silly dog," Angelo teased. "Such a silly dog you are, you know that?" Pepsi whined and nudged Angelo's tummy, which made him flinch. "Hey, you quit that! You did that this morning and it tickles!" Pepsi backed off. "Good boy. Now let me eat my breakfast and get some things and we can go."

Pepsi followed Angelo throughout the house to watch him collect everything he needed. Water? Check. Phone? Emergency cash? Check. Doggie bags? Check. Shoes? Check. Keys? Check. They could finally leave now, and Pepsi couldn't be happier about it. Walks were the best part of his day! And why wouldn't they be; he was a dog! After some walking, they got to the local dog park. Angelo let Pepsi off his leash and started looking for a decent sized stick to throw. But Pepsi did that himself, jumping up to Angelo with a big stick in his mouth. "You want the stick? Do you? Do you?" Angelo asked. "Fetch, boy, fetch!" He threw the stick, and Pepsi rushed to get it. They played fetch for hours, enjoying each other's company and not caring about anybody else, because there was nobody else. The park was deserted and they had it all to themselves.

Eventually, they collapsed onto the floor, under the shade of an oak tree, and snuggled. Angelo loved this part, getting to spend quality time with his beloved dog after a lot of exercise. Pepsi was always more affectionate when he was tired, for some reason, and Angelo was willing to use that to his advantage. "Good boy, Pepsi, good boy!" Angelo smiled. "You may be a silly dog that can't normally stay still, but I still love you." Pepsi barked and jumped up on Angelo in what had to be a hug, which Angelo reciprocated. Then Pepsi lay on his back, which meant only one thing: he wanted belly rubs. And he got them.

"You are adorable!" Angelo babbled, as he rubbed Pepsi's tummy. "Oh, I love you, you big golden goofball!" Pepsi barked happily as he basked in belly rubs. This felt simply amazing; it was the best feeling in the world in the mind of a dog. But Angelo needed belly rubs too. He licked at the prodigy's sensitive belly, making him squeak. This was seen as a good thing by the Golden Labrador, who proceeded to go nuts, pinning the boy down and licking Angelo's belly over and over. Angelo screamed out with laughter, trying to kick out, but also drowning in golden fur. Also, he didn't want to hurt his golden goofball.

"PEHEHEHEHEHEPSIHIHIHIHI, NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Angelo laughed. "IHIHIHIHIHIHT TICKLES! ENOUGH OF THE PUHUHUHUHUPPY KIHIHIHIHISSES!" Pepsi barked happily and continued to let sloppy puppy kisses cuddle all over his owner. Angelo let out high-pitched giggles and squeaks when he felt Pepsi licking his ultra-sensitive neck, and then he began to squeak more as Pepsi went for his neck and face. This was more than he could take, and he was becoming dizzy. And then it stopped.

"Pepsi! Come here! There's a good boy!" a voice said, and Angelo looked up. It was Logan. As Pepsi rushed over to play with someone he already identified as a friend, Angelo did his best to get into a sitting position to properly greet his classmate. "Hey, Angelo!"

"Hey, Logan. Not to be rude, but what are you doing here?" Angelo asked, as he caught his breath.

"I was about to get a snack from the local corner shop when I heard screams of laughter. I went to go look at it and found you two messing around," Logan explained. "Pepsi got you good, didn't he?"

"Yeah, he did, didn't he?" Angelo panted. "That's Pepsi for you. Always willing to play."

"Oh, really?" Logan asked, grinning mischievously. Angelo was confused at the look on Logan's face. "Pepsi, wanna play with Angelo?" Pepsi bounded over to Angelo and started licking at him all over again. Angelo let out an embarrassingly high-pitched squeak before bursting into giggles.

"Pepsi, don't do that, please," Angelo pleaded, still a little out of breath. "I've had enough! I've had enough!" Pepsi backed off, whining pitifully, as Angelo caught his breath all over again. Logan helped him up. Angelo accepted it happily. "Thanks. And please never do that again."

"You're welcome, and I probably will," Logan replied. "Why does Pepsi do that to you, anyway?"

"I don't know," Angelo admitted. "Maybe he's just playing."

"I suppose so," Logan agreed. "But I don't think I'd ever be able to handle Pepsi."

"Handling Pepsi is easy; he's a dog. There are much harder things to handle, like people," Angelo replied. "I'm still trying to figure out Maxwell and Reuben. They were nice first, then mean. What's up with that?"

"They wanted you to hang out with them, but now that you've said no, they're trying to prove that you're an idiot so nobody wants you around," Logan explained. "But now everyone knows that you're a genius, that's ruined their plan and now they need to do something else to make you look bad. How could you not tell what they were doing?"

"Because the last time I was both enrolled in a normal school and with kids my own age was when I was in preschool," Angelo replied. Logan was shocked, but remembered the articles. Angelo had been found to be a child genius when taking a test. It never said when he took the test.

"What schools have you been going to until now?" Logan asked.

"Well, my primary school said that I had to leave because they didn't have the resources for me, and after being bounced around from a bunch of schools that couldn't take me because I was too 'advanced', I ended up being home-schooled until I was seven. It was nice, but I missed being around other kids. Once I was seven, I got a STEM scholarship to a fancy private school called Golden River Academy, for either the economically advantaged or the academically gifted. I fit into the second category, and was shoved into a school with strict teachers and snobby kids who would look down on you because they were either richer than you or smarter than you. But I finished school at the age of ten and applied for university when I was eleven. I had just finished and was wondering what to do next by the time that stupid security concern came through. Just when I was getting the hang of it!" Angelo took a deep breath after the outburst. "Sorry about that. I didn't mean to go into such depth about it."

"It's fine," Logan dismissed. "You needed that. Out of curiosity, what was it really like?" This was Logan's chance to find out more about Angelo.

"It was horrible! You had to deal with teachers that didn't care, students that flaunted how much richer their parents were than your parents and tricked you into believing that you were the biggest idiot ever!" Angelo ranted. "There was favouritism towards the rich kids because their stuff wasn't being paid for by the school, and the scholarship kids picked on each other for what they got a scholarship for! It was ridiculous! If you got a STEM scholarship, you were a nerd. If you got a sports scholarship, you were an idiot with muscles. If you got a scholarship for anything to do with the arts and being creative, then you were a dreamy little nitwit. When I heard that we all had to leave, it was almost a relief to be away from such stuck-up little brats."

"That place sounds horrible . . . and familiar," Logan replied. "Our school isn't that different, really. The rich kids get away with everything, the teachers here don't care either and everyone is split into groups based on interest and everyone picks on each other. But you never noticed because this is an underfunded version of that private school with only a few rich kids, not a fancy private school with lots of rich kids."

"I never knew the school was so bad," Angelo replied. "And it won't get any better now everyone knows I'm a genius inventor teenager. I bet even the teachers were checking out the gossip in the staff room after Mr Daye told them the news."

"Or maybe it was something more innocent. Maybe they wanted to change the school mascot so it had your face," Logan teased. "Or they're arranging for a camera crew to do a documentary of the town where a kid genius lives. I'm pretty sure you've become a tourist attraction by now." Angelo, who had been sipping on water all this time, choked on it when he heard 'tourist attraction'.

"What?" Angelo spluttered. Pepsi snuggled near him for comfort. "That's crazy! A person can't become a tourist attraction! There's no way a city can become famous because that's where one particular person lived! I thought that only happened when they died!"

"Apparently, it can," Logan replied. "The local newspaper is very, very bored in such a small town where there is nothing to report and is just waiting for something interesting to happen at this point. They will descend on you like vultures." Angelo's pupils contracted and he began to hyperventilate. Angelo's hands were shaking and Logan was beginning to worry about his friend. "Angelo?"

"But I don't want any attention!" Angelo babbled, talking faster than normal. "I came here so I could lay low as a normal teenager in a normal school after a worldwide security concern. I don't want everyone looking at me and asking questions and people thinking that if I don't answer them, then I'm a fraud and my parents are liars and everything about me is fake! I don't want anyone snooping around my stuff and my family! I've had more than enough of that!" Pepsi snuggled closer to Angelo, and the boy genius slowly calmed down and smiled at the loyal Golden Labrador. "Thanks, Pepsi. You always know how to calm me down when I get nervous." Pepsi licked Angelo's face as if to say "you're welcome".

"I'm sorry that I sent you into a panic attack, Angelo," Logan apologized.

"I've had worse than this, and at least Pepsi was here," Angelo reassured. He felt like he had to downplay it so Logan didn't feel so bad. "And at least I wasn't made fun of or anything. That sucks."

"It must suck," Logan replied. "But I'm sure it'll get better once you get to know everyone."

"You sound like my mother," Angelo replied. The two laughed, and then Angelo's stomach growled. "Knew I should have brought food that was meant for people and not just dogs. Hey, Logan, do you know of a place where I can get something to eat?"

"I know of this nice little Italian place in town," Logan suggested. "Want me to take you?" Angelo nodded. "Let's go."

Angelo, Logan and Pepsi walked until they reached the high street, filled with clothes shops and takeaways and laundromats and video game stores and what seemed like every type of store ever. Angelo looked on in awe. "This place is huge," he blurted out. Logan laughed.

"Haven't you ever been to a high street before?" Logan asked. "There are much bigger ones than this one, you know."

"Really?" Angelo asked. Not in a sarcastic way, genuinely curious. Logan realized that Angelo hadn't been out in public places in a very long time. "It's not like I've never been out, it's just not to casual places like malls. More often, it was to parks and kid's football games and science camps. I went to a mall when I was about seven, and I remember it being big, but everything's big when you're only seven, so that's not much help, I guess. Anyway, can we go inside and get pizza now?"

"Fine. You have any money? I'll buy you something if you don't," Logan offered. Angelo pulled out some crumpled bank notes.

"I have my own money, but thanks for offering," Angelo smiled, as he tied Pepsi up outside and wandered over to the menu to check what he wanted. There was so much to choose from, but Logan noticed that Angelo gravitated to the section dedicated to all things pizza related. He joined the queue and waited patiently in line until it was his turn. "Excuse me, but are there any mini pepperoni pizzas left?"

"Sure. You saw the price, right?" the lady at the counter asked. Angelo handed over some cash. "That'll be enough. I'll get you your change, kid." A bundle of coins was handed over. Angelo stuffed them into his pocket and received a ticket with a number on it. All he had to do was wait . . . and talk to Logan. Logan wanted to know about life as a prodigy and Angelo wanted to know about life as a normal kid. They both had a lot to say.

"Logan, what social groups are there in a normal high school?" Angelo asked. "In my old school, everyone just hated everyone who wasn't exactly like them and were snobby as hell. What's it like here? What kids are in charge and what kids are the school losers?"

"Well, there are the sporty kids, the attractive kids and just all-around cool at the very top," Logan explained. "Then there are the bullies, who push people around so they knew who was boss. They have some influence, but they don't really do anything that's considered cool, so they're not at the top. The lowest down are the geeks, the nerdy kids. They get no respect and are ridiculed by other students for having such a strong interest in something. There are three types of nerdy kid: the enthusiastic geek, who has such a love for a topic that they want to tell everyone everything about it so everyone knows how awesome it really is. They're harmless and really nice. There are also the teacher's pets, the students who know all the answers and remind the teachers about homework and tests. Mostly harmless, though I've seen people remind the teachers of homework on purpose to mess with everyone. Then there are the snobby geeks, who know everything about their chosen subject, or at least claim to, and if you don't like it, then you are obviously a moron with poor taste. It's pretty clear where Maxwell and Reuben end up on the geek spectrum."

"And what group are you supposed to be?" Angelo asked. "You never said."

"I'm a loner," Logan told him. "I'm right in the middle. Not cool, not uncool, just under the radar. And that's how I like it. I don't want attention on me all the time. It's annoying."

"Now you know where I'm coming from," Angelo sighed. "This is really embarrassing, being found out by just a simple internet search. I didn't want anyone to know about me being . . . different. Not the average teenager. If I wanted people to know that I was a prodigy and won awards for making robots, I would have said so." Then Angelo's number popped up, and he went to get his order. "You want anything?"

"Just a drink," Logan replied. "And maybe a muffin to tide me over." He went over to order, and only waited a minute for the water and muffin to be ordered. They ate in silence, enjoying each other's company. It was quietly perfect . . . until they heard barking from outside. Pepsi was getting really lonely without Angelo, and he was going to let everyone know about it.

"Whose dog is that?" an annoyed woman asked. "Somebody shut him up!"

"Will someone please either control that dog or get rid of it?" an old man complained. Angelo blushed a deep shade of red.

"Excuse me," he muttered to Logan, as he put down his mini pizza and went outside to subdue his dog. "Pepsi, no! You have to be quiet! Pepsi, shush!" Pepsi immediately started sniffing at Angelo's pocket. "No. No treats for you. Not until you're quiet." Pepsi sat down, whimpering and staring at the floor. "I don't want to do this either, but you have to shush. People are staring. You can have a treat later, if you're good. How does that sound?" Pepsi smiled this big, dorky doggy smile on his face, and Angelo went back inside.

"Is that your dog, kid?" someone asked.

"No, it's my pet dragon," Angelo replied, as he went to sit back down. "Sorry about that."

"You didn't just tell someone that Pepsi was your pet dragon, did you?" Logan asked.

"Yes," Angelo replied. "Besides, after seeing me make Pepsi stop barking, how could he not be my dog?"

"Fair point," Logan admitted. Angelo went back to eating his mini pizza. The two were silent, until Logan got a call from his brother.

"Hey, Logan, where are you?" Caleb asked. "Mum wants you home."

"Why?" Logan asked.

"Homework, chores, who knows? Maybe she just wants her baby boy to come back so she can give him kisses," Caleb teased, making kissing noises on the other end of the phone.

"Fine," Logan reluctantly agreed, before hanging up. "Gotta go. My mother wants me back. I'll see you in school." Angelo smiled and waved as his friend walked away. (He would have said something, but he had a mouthful of pizza at the time.) Once he was finished, he left the café and took Pepsi with him. They walked home happily, and Angelo kept his promise and gave Pepsi a treat. The moment he went into the house, Mirella ran over and hugged him.

"Angelo, you're home!" Mirella squealed, hugging him. Angelo grinned as he picked Mirella up and hugged her. The moment her feet touched the floor, she started cuddling Pepsi. "Pepsi!"

"Hey, _piccolo lucciola_ (2)!" Angelo smiled, messing up her hair and grinning when she squealed and tried to restore it to its former glory with her bare hands. "How are you, Mirella?"

"I was fine until you messed with my hair," Mirella huffed. "You owe me cookies now!"

"I do?" Angelo asked.

"Yeah! Go get them!" Mirella ordered.

"Now, Mirella, you know that's not how you're supposed to talk. What are you supposed to say?" Angelo asked.

"Go get them now!" Mirella snapped. Angelo jumped, pretending to be scared of his diminutive younger sister. Mirella giggled.

" _Sì, piccola signora_ (3)," Angelo replied, as he got cookies down from the top shelf. "How many?"

"Three," Mirella replied. Angelo took three chocolate chip cookies and gave them to his sister, holding them above her head to tease her. "Hey! Give them to me! They're mine!"

"Come and get them, Mirella!" Angelo teased. Mirella stood in front of Angelo with her arms crossed, frowning. Then she grinned.

" _MAMMA_ (4)!" Mirella yelled. "Angelo's stolen my cookies!"

"Angelo, give them back!" Angelo's mother yelled. "Don't be so immature! You know Mirella's the youngest!" Angelo gave the cookies to his sister, who smiled sweetly as she ate one of the cookies. She still glared at her brother accusatorily.

"What are you thinking?" Angelo asked. Mirella kept him waiting until she'd finished eating all the cookies.

"PEPSI!" Mirella snapped. "Pepsi, come play with Angelo!" Pepsi bounded over and started 'playing' with Angelo the only way he knew how. Angelo ran into the living room, as if there he would be protected from his rambunctious dog, but Pepsi thought that it was a game and jumped on him, thinking that they were play wrestling. Angelo's yells for help were muffled by Pepsi's bright gold fur and happy barking. He was jumping up and licking at his face and barking happily. But help was at hand. Angelo still had some treats in his pocket, and used them to basically bribe Pepsi into backing off of him.

"Want the treat, boy?" Angelo asked. Pepsi barked happily. "Get on the floor, good boy." Pepsi got off Angelo and sat on the floor, obediently awaiting orders. "Now, stay very still," Angelo instructed, as he placed the treat on Pepsi's nose. "Wait, Pepsi, wait . . . and go!" Pepsi ate the treat happily, and rolled over for yet another belly rub, which he got. Angelo always gave him belly rubs, and the clever pet knew it. He had the young robotics prodigy wrapped around his little finger . . . well, paw. "Pepsi, go find Mirella! There's a good boy!" Angelo encouraged. Pepsi trotted away to find the young girl, who was more than willing to cuddle him. "Finally," he sighed, as he left the living room and went downstairs, heading for the basement.

The basement was easily Angelo's favourite part of the house, and for good reason. The basement was where Angelo got to continue with what he loved to do: inventing things. He kept plans for new inventions lying around his work bench (an old wooden table) and spare parts in a large box. Of course, it wasn't a typical basement at all, not if a certain Angelo Riva had anything to do with it. After moving into the house, Angelo's father (for the sake of his son's inventing) had had the basement fitted with electricity, running water and a bed. (There had been times when Angelo spent all his spare time working on an invention, only coming out of the basement to get food, use the bathroom or take Pepsi on walks, hence the bed.) Angelo immediately started sketching additions for previous inventions. The invention he was currently improving was his already patented, solar-powered car that had a hydraulic engine (in the sense that it could be powered primarily on water, with solar power as a secondary fuel). The improvements that he was going to give to it was the ability to fly and artificial intelligence, allowing it to connect to his phone and control it remotely. Once he was done, he was going to have a flying, solar-powered, hydraulic car that was also artificially intelligent, and he was almost finished. He'd completed the thrusters on the car that would make it fly, and he was now halfway through completing the artificial intelligence system that would later be implanted into the car. He had just spent around two hours sketching a plan to insert it into the car when he heard the phone ring and Pepsi start barking loudly, making sounds that sounded to Angelo that he was running around the house in a frenzy.

"Angelo, get upstairs! Santo is calling! He's going to want to talk to you!" Mirella called. Angelo abandoned his work immediately to talk to his older brother, Santo Riva. He called once a day, every day at the same time and couldn't make it over to the family home to visit in person much, and Angelo didn't want to miss his routine phone calls.

"Hey, Angelo!" Santo greeted, as soon as Angelo sat down and held the phone up to his ear. "How's the family nerd doing? Not too bored, I hope."

"It's actually pretty hectic," Angelo divulged. "The kids at my school found out that I'm a genius when they looked me up on Google. The entire school saw all the articles about me. They were crowding around me asking questions at lunch. I thought I was going to go crazy, or maybe we'd have to move again."

"It's the internet; I'm surprised this didn't happen sooner," Santo replied. "What do they think? Are they messing with you? Because if they're messing with you, I swear I'll-"

"Santo, it's fine," Angelo reassured. "I get a lot of questions from them, but it's just curiosity really. Some of them actually don't want me to leave! It's amazing!"

"Hmmm." Santo sounded cynical, but was happy that Angelo was happy. "Well, you tell me if they start giving you any trouble. You do know that-"

"I shouldn't have to apologize for being the smartest person in the room, I know," Angelo sighed. "Do you have to repeat that to me all the time?"

"Well, pardon me for wanting to foster a sense of pride into my little brother!" Santo snapped. "And don't you ever use that tone on me, Angelo!"

"Sorry!" Angelo yelped. Santo chuckled.

"No need to freak out, Angelo, I can't slap you over the phone," Santo chuckled. "Hey, can you put me on speakerphone? I want to talk to Pepsi."

"Pepsi, come here! It's Santo! You want to talk to Santo?" Angelo asked. Pepsi came running, obediently stopping in front of the landline phone and sniffing it, as if Santo was hiding inside.

"Pepsi, it's me!" Santo greeted, using a babyish voice to talk to the dog. Pepsi barked loudly and span in circles with excitement. "Pepsi, sit down, there's a good boy." Pepsi sat down. Angelo's jaw was on the floor at the way Pepsi obeyed Santo, even though he wasn't physically there. "Roll over." Pepsi rolled over. "Now go play with Angelo." Pepsi got up, jumped on Angelo and started giving him licks that made him collapse into hysterical laughter almost immediately. Santo grinned; his ability to torment his little brother via his insane ticklishness had not been hindered with age or distance. Angelo was fifteen and he was still incredibly ticklish, much to Santo's joy. After listening to Angelo scream with laughter on the other end of the phone, Santo hung up. "Good to know my brother has laughed at least once today," Santo muttered, smiling. "I was worried that he was becoming too serious. Thank God that we have Pepsi." Of course, what Santo never told Angelo was that before he left home, he trained Pepsi to jump on Angelo and tickle him senseless, to make up for the fact that he wasn't there to do it himself.

"Pepsi! Pepsi, no!" Angelo yelled, as Pepsi licked his stomach over and over, harder and faster every time. His face was bright red and streaked with tears of laughter. "STOP THAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAT! IT TIHIHIHIHIHICKLES!" Pepsi barked and continued licking Angelo, who was now far too weak to do anything but laugh uncontrollably. Angelo's father found him collapsed on the floor in hysterics when he came home from work.

"Pepsi, stop that. Sit," Angelo's father ordered. Pepsi sat down, giving Angelo time to catch his breath. "You OK, son?" Angelo nodded. "Good. Now go to bed."

"But it's only 7:30!" Angelo protested.

"Actually, it's 9:45," his father corrected. "You must have lost track of time, _il mio piccolo inventore_ (5)."

"Do you have to call me that?" Angelo protested, blushing.

"Why not? It's true," his father teased. "Now bed." Angelo groaned as he went to bed. Pepsi followed him all the way there.

"No, Pepsi, not again!" Angelo whined. He was expecting to be tickled senseless, but instead, Pepsi snuggled next to him under the covers. Angelo smiled. "Pepsi, I probably don't say this enough, but you're a good dog." Pepsi licked his ear, and Angelo squeaked. "Hahaha! Hey!" Pepsi stayed with Angelo until he finally fell asleep. Then he snuck out of his room to go to his own bed downstairs. By 10:30, everyone in the entire house was fast asleep.

* * *

Translations

1: My precious. Italian.

2: Little firefly. Italian.

3: Yes, little lady. Italian.

4: Mom/Mum. Italian.

5: My little inventor. Italian.


	8. A new plan

_Time skip: from Saturday, April 27th to Monday, April 29th_

* * *

On Monday morning at school, all the attention was focused firmly on Angelo. The Italian youth had questions shouted at him from the moment he was on school grounds and it overwhelmed him. The only reason he didn't go into a panic attack was because he always knew the answers to them. Meanwhile, Maxwell and Reuben sat on the side-lines watching the whole thing, seething with rage. They were supposed to be the titans of knowledge in this school, and that genius-IQ, robot-building, award-winning pest was stealing their thunder without even knowing it! They had to do something to take their nerdy, knowledge-encrusted throne back, and Maxwell figured that he had the perfect scheme this time.

"Angelo is letting all this go to his head. Look at him!" Maxwell snapped. Reuben saw Angelo answering questions from curious fellow students. "Just because he's a genius doesn't mean he deserves any special treatment, but they're practically worshipping him and the ground he walks on! They're going to hand-feed him grapes next!"

"I want to be hand-fed," Reuben muttered, staring at Angelo with jealousy in his eyes. "That sounds nice." Maxwell looked at his minion with shock and disgust.

"What are you doing, dreaming about being hand-fed?" Maxwell scolded. Reuben shrank back with shame and fear of his 'friend'. "We should have been receiving that prestige and respect, but these imbeciles that we call our classmates are wasting it on Angelo!" As they schemed about ways to dethrone the prodigy, the bell rang. Students would disperse to their tutor rooms, and Maxwell and Reuben trudged to their tutor room, where they would have to be even closer to the bane of their existence, Angelo motherfucking Riva. When the class got inside, they found Miss Turrets sitting there with a scary smile that she probably thought looked sweet and reassuring. In reality, the smile on her face was the same smile a snake gave to a mouse before devouring it.

"Hello, there, students," Miss Turrets greeted, still grinning madly. "I have to tell you something very important. It seems we have a genius in our midst! One of our very own students, Angelo Riva, is a secret robotics prodigy! How many people knew that before now, huh?" Miss Turrets had a big smile on her face as she stared at the 30 or so students seated before her. She expected screaming, cheering, crying, arguing, just something loud. But nobody seemed to care. Teenagers were rolling their eyes and scratching their backs, treating this announcement like just another announcement. A few kids were asleep. The tyrannical teacher was confused. "I said, who knew that Angelo Riva was a literal genius before now?"

"Everyone knew! In I.T, my name was searched up in class and half of the school has known since Friday," Angelo pointed out, The class giggled. Miss Turrets dropped the sugar-sweet attitude immediately.

"Don't you talk back to me, Riva," Miss Turrets snapped. "I'd better not have to hear such things from you again, or you'll be in detention for a month. We do not tolerate lying in Willowdale Secondary School."

"But it's true!" Angelo told her. Miss Turrets didn't believe him.

"He's right," a girl at the back blurted out. It was the same girl that had started (albeit unintentionally) the 'search up your classmates on Google' idea in that fateful I.T class. "I saw Maxwell doing it and it looked fun."

"Maxwell?" Angelo blurted out, shocked. "Why would you do that? You don't even like me." Maxwell, after hearing this, was about to come up with the greatest excuse he'd ever given in his life to discredit the school genius' suspicions about him. No, the greatest excuse of all time! But then Reuben opened his big mouth and ruined everything.

"Maxwell wanted to make Angelo look like a loser by searching up his name in front of everyone and laughing at the stupid stuff," Reuben idiotically blurted out. Maxwell's head collided with the desk at Reuben's stupidity. Heads turned to look at the fat boy who had just dropped a bombshell that was as big as himself (which was saying something), then to glare at Maxwell for such an underhanded scheme against someone they were beginning to like. The blonde boy knew that he had to do something to save what little popularity he had. So he did what nobody would do in his desperate position; he threw Reuben, his only friend, under the proverbial bus and accused him of lying.

"Reuben, what a cruel thing to say!" Maxwell scolded. "How dare you slander me by saying that I tried to ruin Angelo's popularity? I would never do that! That is a horrible accusation, especially considering Angelo is still new here! And what motive would I have to make his academic life miserable? Do you have any idea how believable it sounds for me, Maxwell Norwood-Sykes, to bully another student?"

"No; do you?" Logan whispered to Angelo, who struggled to hold in his laughter. Luckily for Maxwell and his campaign of innocence, he didn't notice them.

"Don't give us that bullshit! You called him an imbecile when he wouldn't sit with you!" a kid at the back yelled. And with that single act of defiance, Maxwell's campaign of innocence came crashing down.

"You and some other loser pretended Angelo was talking to get him into trouble in class!"

"You knocked his stuff onto the floor in the changing room after PE!"

"You whistled to him like he was a dog because you wanted him to stop humming while he changed!" Maxwell was quietly freaking out at these blatant acts of mutiny against him. He tried to get them to calm down before somebody said something worse about him.

"Come on, guys, that was a bit of harmless fun. Right, Angelo?" Maxwell looked to the alpha geek for affirmation, but Angelo, being the pacifist that he was, wanted nothing to do with this bitter classroom feud.

"Maxwell, I'd like to stay out of this argument." Angelo was trying to be a diplomat in the chaotic room, but this just enraged Maxwell. Angelo was using this moment to abandon him!

"Oh, now you want to be left alone? Just when I need your help? You are useless, Angelo Riva! UTTERLY USELESS!" Maxwell screamed. The more the boy ranted and raved, the redder his face became. It was like a cartoon. All Maxwell needed now was for smoke to come out of his ears.

"Maxwell, I was never involved in this argument. It may have been about me, but I didn't scream and argue and get mad," Angelo rationalized. "So this isn't me getting fully involved and pulling out just when I'm needed; this is me being a bystander and you trying to involve me in an argument that's getting uglier by the second. And by the way, you calling me useless is clearly name-calling, which is an element of bullying. So you're basically proving everyone's point."

"THANK YOU!" most of the class screamed. They weren't angry at him, just relieved that they were being backed up by someone who knew how logic worked. Maxwell glared at Angelo with hate-filled eyes. He was about to insult the Italian intellect again, but then he heard a strong-willed voice of authority from the front of the room. To Maxwell, it sounded truly terrifying.

"Maxwell, I need to talk to you after tutor is over," Miss Turrets coldly informed. It was not going to look good for her that the son of the school's most generous benefactors was bullying the student that was easily the smartest kid in the entire school right in front of her. Maxwell's blood ran cold. Angelo breathed a sigh of relief. He was certain that his torment was over now that Maxwell was about to face discipline from a teacher. Teachers were gods to nerds like Maxwell. When the bell rang, Angelo walked with Logan to another history lesson. Angelo figured that Miss Hollins wasn't too bad; the perfect mix of firm but fair for him. He arrived early, which was an improvement compared to his previous lesson.

"Good morning, class," Miss Hollins greeted. "Settle down and get to your seats so I can do the register." The register went without a hitch, until she got to Maxwell's name. "Does anyone know where Maxwell is?"

"Miss Turrets wanted to speak to him about something," Angelo told her. Miss Hollins nodded and continued with the register. Just before she reached the end, Maxwell entered the classroom out of breath. _He must have ran all the way to the classroom,_ Angelo thought.

Maxwell started babbling almost immediately. "Sorry I'm late! I was held back by-"

"Save it, Maxwell. Angelo already told me," Miss Hollins interrupted. There was scattered giggles from around the classroom. "Oh, and before I forget, Angelo, could you move to the seat on the other side of the room? You'll be sitting in the empty seat next to Logan from now on."

"Excuse me, but what did I do?" Angelo asked. "I didn't know that I did anything wrong!"

"After last lesson, it would be crazy to assume that it was your fault that I'm moving you," Miss Hollins explained bluntly. She figured that Angelo would know what she was talking about with this subtle hint.

She was wrong.

"Why? What happened last lesson?" Angelo asked.

"Oh my god, do you seriously not know?" a kid at the front snickered.

"No, I don't. I was busy taking notes and didn't notice a thing," Angelo explained, as if it was the most normal thing in the world to not notice two kids trying their hardest to get you into trouble. Jaws dropped. Logan took it upon himself to explain to his oblivious, high-IQ friend.

"Well, Maxwell and some other guy named Courtney were trying to get you into trouble by saying things like 'Angelo, stop talking! I can't concentrate!' and 'Angelo, you're being far too loud!' How did you not hear that?" Logan asked. "Everyone else did."

"I've trained myself to block out background sounds so I don't get distracted," Angelo explained. "It's like the mute button on a television remote, but you use it on the annoying background noise so you can concentrate more on the task at hand."

"That is an interesting quality to have," Miss Hollins noted. "Normally I would be worried about my students' work ethics, but since this works for you and you've produced far more work than some of my other students who might need it more, then I'll allow it." Angelo nodded, and got out his books so he could write. Logan knew better to talk to Angelo when he was concentrating. If he could block out the sound of the entire class laughing at Maxwell, then he could certainly block out one student trying to get his attention.

* * *

At break, Logan talked to Angelo about where he learned how to block the sound of other students talking. "I learned it at my old school," Angelo told him.

The redhead was confused. "I thought your old school was a private school full of rich kids and smart kids. Why would you need to block them out?" Logan asked.

"Hey, I said they were all rich kids and smart kids; I never said they knew when to shut up," Angelo replied. "I'd have found them easier to tolerate if they did."

"Why would kids at an elite private school be so annoying you'd have to shut them out?" Logan asked. Angelo laughed.

"The kids there were worse than the kids here! They shouted, threw tantrums and swore at the teachers, cheated off everyone during tests, stole people's homework, vandalism, and loads of drama!" Angelo disclosed. "And when they got caught breaking the rules, they never had any idea why they got detention because they 'knew people' and could easily 'pull some strings'!"

"That's crazy!" Logan spluttered.

"Yeah, I know. Not what you'd expect from an elite private school. One time, a guy stole my maths homework and turned it in to the next class he had. Unfortunately, that class was a history class," Angelo giggled. "You try keeping a straight face while the teacher tells this dumb kid that quadratic equations can't help him pass a test about the Great Depression!"

"No way is someone that dumb!" Logan laughed.

"They are definitely that dumb!" Angelo replied. "One time, a girl was using her calculator and put the question in wrong. She wrote MATHEMATICAL ERROR as her answer."

Logan laughed aloud. A group of girls gave them the stink eye, but they didn't care. Nothing was there as far as they were concerned. It was just them, and that was the way they liked it.

"How many more stories have you got?" Logan giggled.

"How much time do you have?" Angelo asked. "And if you think the students are bad, wait until you hear about the teachers and parents! I could go on forever!" Then the bell rang. "But I can't because I have to get to PE before all the good spots in the changing room are taken up! Gotta go! Bye!" Angelo and Logan ran to the changing rooms (but not before stopping to get their stuff out of their lockers) and to Angelo's relief, there was still a corner spot for him to take. He was just about to take it when Reuben used his extra weight to shove him out of the way. Angelo landed on the floor, hitting his head against a wall.

"Thank you, Angelo," Maxwell snickered, as Reuben placed his stuff down next to him. "The corner spots are the best spots, after all. Thanks for saving one for me."

"That's not fair! I was there first!" Angelo argued, rubbing the back of his head.

"And you said you would never bully another student! Maxwell, you liar!" Logan snapped.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Maxwell mocked. Reuben snickered and the two high-fived. Suddenly, the two giggling geeks felt a tap on their shoulders. They turned around to find the biggest member of the Red Bandanas staring at them angrily.

"That's his spot," he stated bluntly.

"Well, it's my spot now," Maxwell replied, trying to look tough. This is hard to do when you have greasy blonde hair, a bad case of acne, barely any muscle and are exactly five feet tall. He was picked up and dragged over to the door, where he was dumped on the floor like yesterday's garbage.

"No, it's Angelo's spot," the biggest guy told him, matter-of-factly, before going back to changing.

"Thanks," Angelo whispered, as he took back his spot and quickly started changing. Reuben took his friend's stuff and quickly started looking for another spot to steal. Twenty minutes later, the rest of the class had finished changing, but Maxwell and Reuben were still looking for a place to steal. Unfortunately, all of the good spots were taken. They were going to be in trouble soon.

"Boys! Why haven't you changed?" Coach Hurley asked.

"I have a note," Reuben blurted out. (He didn't have a note.)

"And you?" Coach Hurley's eyes were trained on Maxwell. Maxwell faltered, wilting under the teacher's gaze.

"I, er, got there late and couldn't find in a spot to change in and-" Coach Hurley stopped him.

"Get changed and get out there. You've got five minutes," Coach Hurley stated, as he and Reuben left. Maxwell simmered with rage as he changed. He came to the conclusion that this was all Angelo's fault. (Maxwell was coming to this conclusion a lot lately.) If Angelo hadn't put up so much of a fuss, the guy from the Red Bandanas gang wouldn't have stepped in to help someone who'd helped his friends, he would have had a place to change and he wouldn't be late to PE class now. (The fact that he and Reuben had spent too much time in the canteen didn't register to him at all, for some reason.) When he got changed, he found the whole class waiting for him, staring at him as he walked onto the basketball court.

"Well, you took your sweet time getting here," one boy muttered. Maxwell sneered at him before sitting down.

"Right. Now that the whole class is here, we can start sorting you into teams," Coach Hurley instructed. "Everybody line up and I'll give you letters. Everyone with the same letter, get together." As people pushed and shoved each other into a rough line, the seasoned coach started sorting people. Maxwell almost couldn't contain his glee. Angelo was finally going to be humiliated in front of everyone. Eventually, there were five teams of five and one team of four (the fifth person being Reuben, who was on the bench). "Team A with team F, team B with team E, team C with team D. Let's go."

As they started playing, Maxwell did his best to watch how Angelo played. Much to his annoyance, he was pretty good. Not good enough to be selected for the school team, but good. He wanted to watch more so he could see precisely when Angelo screwed up, but then he was hit in the head by a basketball and fell to the floor.

"What the hell, man? I was trying to pass to you! What's so interesting about over there?" one of his team-mates yelled. Maxwell groaned and stood up, rubbing his head. The world was spinning. Coach Hurley noticed Maxwell's disoriented state and went over to help.

"Maxwell, are you OK?" the coach asked, concerned.

"I'm dizzy and have a headache," Maxwell complained.

"OK, you sit on the bench next to Reuben and I'll get you an ice pack or something," the PE teacher instructed, as he left to get the First Aid kit. The basketball game continued as normal around him. Reuben, being the concerned minion that he was, tried to see if his master was going to be all right.

"Maxwell?" Reuben whispered. "Maxwell, are you-"

"Don't talk to me. I still have a headache from that stupid ball hitting me," Maxwell snapped. Reuben moved over on the bench, terrified of Maxwell's foul mood. Coach Hurley came over with an ice pack and gave it to Maxwell. The blonde nerd pressed it to his head almost immediately, letting out a hiss of pain. Coach Hurley felt sympathetic to Maxwell's plight, since he himself had been injured playing sports.

"Maxwell, get your stuff and take yourself off to the nurse. Reuben, go with him. I'll email the nurse about why you're there," the kindly sports coach told Maxwell. Maxwell nodded and left, Reuben getting up with him. Once they got into the changing room, the friendship type between Maxwell and Reuben came back. Reuben packed Maxwell's stuff for him while Maxwell gave him further instructions for the rest of the school day.

"Look, Reuben, Angelo is a lot of things, but I at least have something he doesn't: money. I'm easily the richest kid in the whole school, and I bet Angelo lives on the poor side of town," Maxwell bragged. "Sure, he went to an elite private school, but it was on a scholarship; his parents weren't rich enough to pay for it. And all geniuses start off poor, anyway. I mean, look at Nikola Tesla. He was poor all his life."

"Yeah! I'm surprised he can even pay for his lunch!" Reuben exclaimed, sniggering. Maxwell nodded.

"Just ask him about how much money he has and see his reaction," Maxwell ordered. "He probably won't tell you what his parents do for a living." He stood up, still holding the ice pack onto his head. "Where's my stuff, Reuben?" Reuben quickly handed him his bags.

"Here," Reuben blurted out.

"I'm not holding them. I just wanted to know where they were," Maxwell curtly replied. "That stupid ball gave me a headache, and if I carry anything, I'll probably collapse, and it would be all your fault for making me exert myself too much. Now bring them with me to the nurse's office before I faint." Reuben obeyed his friend as he carried Maxwell's heavy bags to the nurse, which seemed to be much further away now than before. When they got there, Maxwell immediately took his stuff and shooed Reuben away. This gave the fat boy the perfect opportunity to forge a note from his mother for Coach Hurley's inspection. Then he went back to the lesson, which was almost over once he got there. Coach Hurley was sending everyone to the changing rooms.

"Oh, Reuben, you're here! You said you had a note earlier. Can I see it?" Reuben fished out the forgery and showed it to the coach, who glanced over it and approved it, nodding. Reuben breathed a sigh of relief. He was off the hook.

* * *

At lunch, Angelo was talking to Logan about teenage stuff when they were eating lunch. Logan was letting Angelo listen to some _Panic! At The Disco_ songs when Reuben showed up. They were on high alert immediately.

"What do you want, Reuben?" Logan asked. "And where's Maxwell?"

"Maxwell went home with a concussion, and I want to talk to Angelo," Reuben snapped. "So get lost!"

"Don't talk to my friend like that!" Angelo snapped. "And what do you really want?"

"I'll thank you not to be so rude," Reuben huffed. "Angelo, I really want to ask you some questions."

"Like what?" Angelo asked. He didn't trust Reuben for a second.

"What do your parents do?" Reuben asked.

"They're university professors in the next town over," Angelo replied. "Brightmoon University, right? I don't really remember the name, I haven't been here long." Reuben knew that Angelo probably meant that his parents worked in a university in Moonbright, the next town over, since Willowdale didn't have a university to its name.

"Oh. OK," Reuben replied, as he waddled away. Logan and Angelo looked at each other, very confused.

"Well, that was weird," Angelo muttered under his breath.

"Tell me about it," Logan muttered back. "He came over, asked literally one question and went away. Something's up."

"Of course something's up. Reuben and Maxwell hate me," Angelo replied. "I know I sound paranoid saying this, but I think Maxwell and Reuben are planning something."

"I think you might be right, Angelo," Logan replied. "Speaking of Maxwell, he's probably relaxing at home with an ice-pack on his head while his servants fetch him things."

* * *

This wasn't happening at all. Maxwell was actually getting an earful from his parents about harassing Angelo earlier. "I can't believe that we got a call from the school that said that you were bullying that genius kid in school!" Maxwell's mother screamed. "Do you have any idea of how this reflects on us? He's going to pull this school out of the mud! You're lucky we persuaded them not to do anything more than talk to you!"

"Look, son, you need to make a better impression on that Riva kid, or we'll have our reputations dragged through the mud," Maxwell's father ordered. "We do not finance this school for them to tell us that our son is using the same sort of behaviour as those undisciplined thugs he goes to school with!"

"I can fix this! I can be friends with him!" Maxwell yelled. His parents stopped in his tracks.

"And what's your plan for that?" Maxwell's father asked, leaning in close to his son. Maxwell gulped, and just said the first thing that he knew Angelo would be good at. It was mentioned in the news articles all the time, after all. He'd read every last one of them late at night, seething with envy and rage. Angelo had everything!

"Maybe we could have an invention competition at school, where everyone invents something and the best invention gets a prize of some sort, like money or something," Maxwell suggested. His ditzy parents looked at each other, then looked at Maxwell, and smiled.

"Nice work, kid! Playing to his strengths!" Maxwell's dad chuckled, thumping his son's back. He felt himself being shoved forwards from the friendly gesture. "If that won't curry favour with the robot kid, nothing will! And it will make the school look good! You clearly got your father's brains, that I can tell!"

"Oh, I'm so proud of you!" Maxwell's mother sobbed, hugging her clever boy tightly. Maxwell held his breath as his mother's strong-smelling perfume invaded his nostrils, and only breathed in when she had finally stopped hugging him.

"I'll give this suggestion to the principal; I'm sure he'd love it," Maxwell's father replied happily. "Good thinking, son." Then the two parents left Maxwell alone to do various things: his mother was getting a massage from one of the maids, and his father had a few calls to make. With both his parents out of his hair, Maxwell figured it would be fine to let himself relax.

"Housekeeper! Get me a brownie!" Maxwell ordered, as he settled down onto the sofa and turned on the TV. "And a Dr Pepper! I'm thirsty!"

"Yes, Maxwell," the housekeeper muttered, as she went to fetch the brat his food. "Why he can't get it himself, I will never know."

* * *

At the actual end of the school day, Angelo went home to a house with nobody but his dad, his sister and his dog. " _Ciao, sono a casa_ (1)!" Angelo called. His sister and dog came running up to him immediately.

"Angelo, you're here!" Mirella cheered. "I missed you!"

"I missed you too!" Angelo smiled. "It's so good to see you!" Pepsi barked, as a warning to Angelo not to forget him. "And how could I possibly forget you, Pepsi? You're man's best friend, and don't you forget it!" Pepsi barked happily, licking Angelo's face and covering it in sticky drool. "I never said you could lick me!" Pepsi then rolled over onto his tummy, waiting for the belly rubs he knew he would receive. "That's better. Aww, you're so cute, Pepsi! I wish you were always like this!"

"And I wish he'd play with you, Angelo," Mirella smiled. "Pepsi, play with Angelo!" Pepsi was about to jump on Angelo and tickle him senseless, but then Angelo's father, Bonaventura Riva stopped that plan in its tracks.

"Pepsi, come here," Bonaventura ordered, and Pepsi obediently trotted over to the patriarch of the Riva household. "Mirella, what did I tell you about making the dog jump on Angelo?"

"That I wasn't supposed to do it," Mirella muttered. "I'm sorry, _Papa_ (2)." His father softened at the look on his daughter's face.

"I know, I know," he sighed. "Now get changed. After dinner, you've got to do your homework."

"What?" Mirella spluttered. Angelo grinned at her.

"Wipe the smile off your face, Angelo. This applies to you too," his father replied.

"What?" Angelo spluttered. Mirella grinned at him.

"Now!" Bonaventura ordered. Angelo and Mirella sighed and went to their respective rooms to change. Angelo got out first and started doing homework, which was ridiculously easy for him. He'd been doing this stuff since the age of four, after all. This was child's play in Angelo's eyes, and he got to work. The mathematical equations were completed in half an hour, the English essay in another half an hour. Then he had to do the chemistry homework. A little harder, but nothing he hadn't done before. Finally, one hour and forty minutes later, he was done. The rest of the day was free time for Angelo, until-

"Angelo, can you help me?" Mirella asked. "I'm stuck." Angelo turned around to see Mirella struggling to grasp the concept of subtracting a two-digit number from a two-digit number. He went over to help her.

"OK, sis, so you have to start with the units first," Angelo instructed. "If the unit of the bigger number is smaller than the unit of the smaller number, then you can carry a one over from the tens column to it to make it bigger."

"Like that?" Mirella asked.

"Exactly like that! You're getting the hang of it, Mirella!" Angelo encouraged. "Need any more help?"

"No thanks!" Mirella smiled. "Thank you, Angelo! You're the best!" Angelo felt a surge of pride when he heard that. His little sister thought he was the best. He had a noticeable hop in his steps all the way to the basement. He was finally going to finish drawing the plans for his artificially intelligent car. Angelo estimated that he would only be there for fifteen minutes.

It eventually became two hours.

"Angelo, what's taking you so long?" Bonaventura asked, poking his head into the attic. "Look, boy, you need to get some rest."

"Just a few more edits, I promise," Angelo replied. "Then I'll go to bed."

"You said that already," Angelo's father replied, stone-faced. "Angelo Savio Benvenuto Valerio Riva, go to bed or I'll make you."

"But Dad-" Angelo protested. That was a step too far. Angelo's father, being a big man and quite strong, wouldn't take any more of his son's excuses and picked up his teenage son to carry him to his room like a toddler.

"That's it, Angelo," his father muttered. "Off to bed you go. You have school tomorrow."

"But I have to make a few more notes!" Angelo insisted, struggling. "And I'm not even tired!"

"Oh, you're not, huh?" Bonaventura asked. "Well, let me fix that." Angelo felt fingers digging into his ribs, and he squealed with laughter. His father always knew how to make his precocious son squirm.

"Stop that!" Angelo begged, as he giggled. "No more! I'm sorry!"

"Oh, you are, huh?" Angelo's father teased. "So you'll go to bed?"

"Yes!" Angelo pleaded. "Please, no more! _Non ce la faccio!_ (3)"

"Of course," the patriarch smiled, as he placed Angelo on the floor and allowed the dazed boy to stagger over to his bedroom. " _Sogni d'oro, figlio._ (4)" With that, he went to the master bedroom for his own night's sleep.

* * *

Translations

1: Hi, I'm home! Italian.

2: Dad.

3: I can't take it. Italian.

4: Sweet dreams, son. Italian.


	9. Introducing the Invention Convention

_Tuesday, April 30th_

* * *

Maxwell interrogated Reuben about what Angelo said his parents did. "Reuben, what did he tell you?" Maxwell asked angrily. "What do his parents do for a living?"

"He said that they were university professors," Reuben reported. Maxwell growled angrily, making Reuben so terrified of his friend, he actually backed up several feet.

"For God's sake!" Maxwell snapped, kicking a wall with anger. He later came to regret that as his foot hurt like crazy. "So, his parents work in that university in Moonbright, and that university pays good money to the teachers! Does this guy have any flaws at all?"

"Not that I know of," Reuben admitted stupidly. Maxwell slapped him right around his chubby face. "Ow!" Reuben yelped. "But I'm sure that we'll find some."

"You and me are going to find as much out about Angelo as we can to use against him," Maxwell briefed. "If we do enough digging, we'll find out something that will destroy him!"

"Yeah!" Reuben cheered. People looked at him weirdly for cheering so loudly for no clear reason. Maxwell glared at him.

"Stop embarrassing me, you twit," Maxwell muttered, as he went to registration. Reuben followed him, huffing and puffing as he climbed the stairs to the classroom, only to find that they were early. Nobody was there and the door was locked, so they would have to wait for a teacher to let them in. Maxwell was annoyed by this. He never had to wait for anything at home! People waited for him!

"This is ridiculous," Maxwell complained. "The school always says to come early because it will be good for the workplace. But if that's true, why don't they come early? This is their workplace and they're late!" Maxwell kicked a wall in frustration, wincing as pain shot up from his toes. He hopped around on his good foot as he waited for the pain to subside.

"But Maxwell, we've actually got twenty minutes before the bell and-" Reuben was interrupted by another slap to the face.

"If I wanted to hear from you, Reuben, then I would have said so," Maxwell ordered. "Don't speak unless you're spoken to from now on, do you hear me?"

"Y-yes," Reuben whimpered, terrified of making Maxwell angry. If he made Maxwell angry, then he wouldn't be his friend anymore, and if Reuben started hanging out on his own, it would make him vulnerable to all the people he and Maxwell had insulted before. And because that was a lot of people, Reuben preferred the unsteady alliance between himself and the richest, snobbiest kid in school. It was better than nothing, right? Maxwell would never be really mean because Maxwell liked him. He kept his thoughts to himself as he stood outside the classroom, waiting to be let in. It was boring, but at least it couldn't be any worse.

Then Angelo and Logan walked past. Angelo was looking for the science department to hand in some homework early, which Logan hadn't shown him because he thought it wasn't as important as knowing where the classrooms were. The science department was on the same floor as their tutor room, so Logan was taking Angelo there to hand the homework in personally and then wait outside their tutor room. When they saw Maxwell and Reuben, they stopped in their tracks. Maxwell remembered the promise he made about he would soon be friends with Angelo, and turned up the charm to a level he usually reserved for authority figures.

"Good morning, Angelo!" Maxwell greeted, with a sickly sweet smile. "How are you today?"

"I'm good, thank you," Angelo replied, confused but trying to not let it show in his voice. "You seem different today, Maxwell."

"Oh, that's because it's such a beautiful day today," Maxwell lied. All four people (Maxwell, Angelo, Logan and Reuben) immediately knew this was a massive lie, and that was because it had been raining cats and dogs all day. If they were able to look out of any window, they would have been able to see students coming into the school completely drenched. Angelo looked at Maxwell quizzically, and the blonde boy knew he was rumbled. He tried a different tactic: emotions. "Angelo, I know that you and I haven't exactly been on good terms since you started here. In fact, I've been rather cruel to you." Maxwell didn't care about how Angelo felt about his treatment, just that he at least looked like a better person in front of him and his best friend. "I'd like to start over, Angelo. I-" he stopped for the sake of a dramatic pause "-really think we could be good friends." He stuck out his hand for Angelo to shake. Angelo, understandably, wasn't quite sure about the sudden sentimental speech. He didn't trust Maxwell in the slightest and had always had the feeling that he and Reuben were plotting against him from the moment they first butted heads. He knew first hand that Maxwell was willing to lie right to people's faces and push people around when other people weren't looking. The Italian prodigy decided to pretend that he trusted Maxwell for the sake of appearances, but never be too trusting of the deceptive duo. Maxwell was as toxic as hemlock and Reuben was no better.

"You're right. We should start over," Angelo agreed, shaking Maxwell's hand. It felt cold and clammy, and the handshake felt like it lasted far too long. Eventually, Maxwell broke it off, secretly enjoying the social torture he was putting Angelo through. The only thing the genius could do was stay quiet until tutor time came around. He occupied his time with daydreaming about his most recently modified invention, his eco-friendly car fuelled by solar power that ran on a hydraulic engine. He figured he finally had the perfect strategy for installing the software and he just had to write it all down and get it on paper when the bell rang and he got startled. He was annoyed about it, but he had to shake it off and go inside. People were much nicer to him now than before, greeting him warmly.

"Hey, Angelo!" one girl giggled.

"Angelo, good to see you, man!" a guy called. Angelo smiled back and waved and went to his seat, next to Logan. Maxwell and Reuben deviated from their normal seating to sit next to Angelo and Logan, still keeping up the façade of being Angelo's newest friends. People were rather confused at this. Why would Maxwell insult Angelo if he wanted to stay so close to him? The happy chatter was forced to stop when Miss Turrets entered the room. She had the same devious grin she had when she announced Angelo Riva's genius status to the class. What bombshell was she about to drop now?

"Class, settle down so I can get on with the register," Miss Turrets droned, as she took a long sip of her coffee. "How much time do you guys need to shut up?" she muttered under her breath. "It's not that hard!"

"This won't go well," Angelo muttered.

"Oh, have a little faith," Logan muttered back. "You don't even know what she's going to announce."

"I am honoured to announce that we will be having our first ever Invention Convention! Students design an invention for anything they want, whether on their own or in a group of no more than four, which will go to a panel of judges, who will then vote on whoever they think had the best invention, and the winner gets a cash prize of £1000!" Miss Turrets announced, grinning. This time, she got the chaotic, shocked response she wanted.

"Oh, what's the point?"

"Hold on, that's not fair! Angelo's won awards for inventing stuff! He'll wipe the floor with us! Having him in the competition won't be fair!"

"I don't even want to do a stupid invention convention anyway!"

"Whose dumb idea was this?"

"I told you this wouldn't go well," Angelo groaned, cradling his head in his hands. Miss Turrets seemed to pick up on Angelo's despair and, using her newfound knowledge of him, did her best to send him mad.

"So, anyone want to give their opinion on this?" Miss Turrets asked, ignoring the screaming teenagers. "How about . . . Angelo? We all know you have experience with inventing things and have won awards for inventing things before. What do you make of this?"

"I have a lot of experience with inventing and know how tough competitions can be, so this should be easy," Angelo mused. Miss Turrets smiled sweetly, although she was secretly becoming impatient with the brainbox.

"So, what do you think?" Miss Turrets smiled.

"I think I won't do it to make it more fair on everyone else," Angelo replied. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, and Maxwell pretended to be disappointed. The reason why he was only pretending was because he knew something Angelo didn't (for once). And obviously, Miss Turrets knew it, too, and she gleefully explained it to Angelo and the entire class.

"Well, that's a noble idea, Angelo, but I'm afraid that's impossible," Miss Turrets simpered. "One of the rules of our Invention Convention is that submitting an invention design is compulsory, and if you don't submit something in exactly three weeks from now, you will receive twenty days of after. School. Detention." She let the words hang in the air and make the atmosphere stale and oppressive, letting it bear down on the students. All hope they had that Angelo could help them by not submitting anything was lost now they knew that Angelo was as helpless as they were. Their only chance of a fair match was dangled in front of their faces before being snatched away and destroyed. The sadistic schoolteacher grinned as she watched the room full of teenagers slowly lose hope. The bell rang, and everyone trudged off to their first class of the day.

* * *

At recess that day, in the lunch hall, practically everyone tried to find a way to get out of the dreaded convention. "Why can't we just not give them anything?" one kid asked. The girl next to him hit him round the head.

"It's compulsory, remember? We have no choice," she hissed.

"Oh, right."

"Do they want me to win this or what?" Angelo asked. "Honestly, this entire competition seems tailored to me, the only inventor in the whole school!" Maxwell inwardly panicked. Had Angelo figured it out already? Did he know that he, Maxwell Norwood-Sykes, was involved?

"Maybe this is what they want you to do. Wipe the floor with us so they can brag about having an exceptional student," an especially cynical student sighed. "Face it, Angelo. Even though you are a genius, there's nothing you can do to get you out of this."

"You're right," Angelo replied, a plan already forming in his sharp little mind. "There's nothing I can do to get the school to make me not compete, despite how blatantly unfair it is. I have to turn something in. But nobody said I had to give them a good thing. They just _think_ that I will." The more rebellious kids cheered. The rest were either confused or worried.

"And what will you invent for them to never want you in another stupid Invention Convention again?" a kid asked. Angelo chuckled.

"I've got several ideas," Angelo grinned. "And you'll hear all about it once the Invention Convention takes place!" Everyone could see the devious grin on Angelo's face. This was going to be good. The teens left the lunch hall with hope, some more than others.

"Wow! Who knew that a nerd could be so willing to cause chaos around here?"

"I'm not bringing an invention; I'm bringing popcorn!"

"But how's he going to pull it off? He has three weeks!"

"Three weeks is all I need," Angelo grinned, as he got out paper to sketch some plans.

"Don't you have a lesson to go to, Angelo?" Maxwell asked.

"Actually, I have a free period, so no," Angelo explained, as he got back to work.

"But what about your homework?" Reuben asked.

"Already finished. It was easy." The Italian intellectual brushed the boys off. "I have an hour to design the bare bones of something for this Invention Convention, and I'll be just fine with that. I can flesh it out once I get home." Maxwell backed off at this point. He knew that if he tried to question Angelo any more, then he would look suspicious. But he was curious. What was Angelo planning? Maxwell tried to lean over Angelo's shoulder to see what he was writing, but then the bell rang for the end of break, and he had to hurry to his English class before he got a late mark. And of course, Maxwell Norwood-Sykes did _not_ get late marks.

* * *

At lunch, Maxwell did something he rarely ever did and joined in with the students pestering Angelo for information about the Invention Convention. "So, Angelo, what will you be making?" he asked, getting uncomfortably close to the boy genius. "What purpose does it have? Why will it be the thing that gets you out of the Invention Convention forever?"

"Patience, Maxwell," Angelo sighed. "You'll find out at the same time as everyone else: when the inventions are being submitted."

"Can't you tell us a little bit about it now?" Maxwell pleaded.

"Oh, Maxwell, that would ruin the surprise," Angelo teased, giggling as he went back to work. Maxwell quietly seethed. Angelo wasn't telling him anything, and he needed answers now. If one of his family's servants taunted him like this, they would've been fired on the spot and blacklisted all over town.

"Look, Angelo, you have the answers that I want, and I'm not leaving without them, you hear me?" Maxwell snapped, pounding the table. Angelo jumped.

"Maxwell, you don't need to be so forceful," Angelo stammered. Maxwell grinned; he had the little nerd right where he wanted him.

"Come on, Angelo, just tell me. We're friends, remember? And friends tell each other stuff, don't they?" Maxwell leaned in closer to Angelo. Angelo leaned backwards.

"Friends don't need to force information out of someone using peer pressure," Angelo weakly pointed out. Maxwell growled, before being stopped by Logan.

"Can't you give Angelo a break for once, Maxwell?" Logan asked, as Angelo, under the table, started searching through his bag for a stress ball. "You talk about being his friend, but you're really a bully in disguise." Reuben sensed his master was in trouble and came to his aid.

"Look, carrot top, stop fussing over your precious Angelo and let us talk to him," Reuben snapped. "He'll be just fine with us. We won't hurt him or anything."

"Yeah, he'll be fine," Maxwell said, shocking himself. Since when did he say 'yeah'? That was something uncultured hopeless cases like the kids he went to school with said. But he shook it off. "Now, Angelo, where were we? Oh, yes. You were about to tell me what you would invent!" Maxwell's angry shrieks attracted attention from students, who rallied around Angelo.

"Leave the poor guy alone! He doesn't have to tell you anything!"

"Don't be such a jerk, Maxwell!"

"Hey, man, are you OK?"

"I'm fine. I just need to go to the toilets," Angelo excused, taking his stuff and running away. He hid inside a toilet stall, curled up in the corner and started hyperventilating. He was having another panic attack, worse than ever before. Eventually, he broke down and quietly sobbed. Maxwell and Reuben were making his life at school hell. Nice, then mean, nice then mean, when did it stop? Why couldn't they just pick one and be done with it? Angelo didn't like people being mean to him, but if he'd never known them to be nice in the first place, then it would be easier for him to insult them. But the niceness was throwing him off. He got his emergency stress ball out of his pocket and started squeezing it. Hard. He heard the bathroom door open and shut and footsteps coming closer and closer to him. Then he saw a pair of feet in front of him. He recognized the shoes. They were Logan's.

"Angelo?" Logan asked. "Are you in there?"

"Logan, not now!" Angelo pleaded. "What if someone sees us?"

"We're the only ones in here, and it's just me," Logan persuaded. "I won't tell anyone anything, I promise you." Logan helped Angelo to his feet and looked him over. His eyes were red with tears and the stress ball still in his hand. "You've been crying, haven't you?"

"Don't tell anyone, please," Angelo begged. "I'll never live it down."

"I won't tell a soul," Logan promised. "This stays between us." Angelo nodded, mouthing the words 'thank you' to him as he went to the bathroom to dry his tears and splash cold water on his face. After giving his reflection a once-over in the mirror and stuffing the stress ball into his pocket, Angelo felt he was ready to go outside and continue with the planning of his invention. But then the bell rang, and Angelo cursed under his breath in Italian. Oh, well. He could always continue it at home.

* * *

_Time skip: from the end of lunch until the end of the school day (because nothing interesting happens in this time)_

Angelo waited for Logan after school (at 3:00) so he would have someone to talk to on the way home. Logan, despite the fact that he'd never said it to the redhead's face, was Angelo's closest friend and he liked him the most out of anyone there. He tried to pretend he wasn't waiting for Logan by buying a chocolate bar from a nearby convenience store and eating it slowly. It worked until Logan found him, sneaking behind him after most of the students were gone and grabbing him around the waist, poking his sides and grinning as Angelo let out a ticklish squeak.

"Hey!" Angelo yelped, blushing a shade of red as dark as Logan's hair. "What was that for?"

"You were waiting for me so you wouldn't be lonely, weren't you?" Logan asked. Angelo stared at him, wide-eyed.

"How do you know this?" Angelo asked, incredulous.

"You're a terrible liar, that's how I know," Logan pointed out. "And you've clearly never done this before, otherwise you'd have hidden somewhere." Angelo blushed an even darker sense of red.

"This will be the second thing today that I won't want you to tell anyone about," Angelo muttered. Logan grinned deviously. "What are you going to do, Logan?"

"Angelo, can you meet me in the park today at, say, 5:00? And bring Pepsi with you," Logan replied. Angelo was confused, but he was still relatively relaxed about it, more so than earlier. Pepsi was a good dog, and Logan meant no harm. He was still cautious about Logan's motives.

"Why do you want to meet me in the park?" Angelo asked. Logan panicked, not being prepared for Angelo's question. Luckily, this moment ended all too quickly and Logan answered him.

"Well, I just thought you might need a hand with school and stuff so you don't have any more . . ." The sentence died while it was still on the tip of Logan's tongue.

"Panic attacks. It's not a dirty word, you know. I don't mind you saying it."

"Yeah, those."

"How do I know that you won't just use this chance to mess with me?" Angelo asked.

"I wasn't originally, but that's suddenly very tempting," Logan said. The two laughed, and Angelo felt more at ease.

"I'll be there," Angelo replied, sticking out a hand that Logan shook. Angelo then walked home, and Logan went with him. They walked to the park where Logan had found, to Angelo's embarrassment, Angelo being tickled senseless by Pepsi and Angelo had found Logan reading a book in the rain. "You mean this park, right? The one you want to meet me in later?"

"There aren't any other parks in this town," Logan replied. Angelo suddenly became more submissive, staring at the ground.

"Sorry," Angelo muttered.

"Never mind, you couldn't have known that," Logan excused. "Just don't be late, OK?"

"I won't!" Angelo promised, as he walked home. "See you, Logan!"

"See you, Angelo!" Logan called, as he went the opposite direction towards his own house.

* * *

Two hours of inventing the best and worst invention ever later, Angelo was taking Pepsi for a walk to the park. He arrived at the park with his dog only to find that Logan wasn't there. Angelo sighed. This was a set-up. Logan was going to be laughing at home and telling everyone about how he tricked the literal smartest kid in school and he would receive hell for months. But he couldn't leave now. Pepsi was so happy to be at the park, his favourite place ever. Angelo took a toy he'd brought and threw it for Pepsi to fetch.

"Go get it, boy!" Angelo called. Pepsi ran to get it, but then a strange thing happened. Halfway towards the toy, Pepsi stopped, turned around and stuck his head under Angelo's shirt and started licking his stomach. The poor kid burst into laughter immediately. Why did he have to be so ticklish? It was horrible and everyone around him who knew about it loved to use it to torment him. His older brother, Santo, was banned from tickling him when they were kids because his screams of laughter were that loud. "Pepsi, no! Nohohohohohoho! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"Aww, there's a good boy! Get him more, Pepsi! Get him!" a voice encouraged. Pepsi barked and started licking Angelo harder. The black-haired boffin became beetroot red at the sound of another human's voice. There was someone watching him. He frantically tried to push Pepsi off him, before suddenly recognizing the voice.

"Logan!" Angelo yelped. "Where are you?" He looked left, right, in front of him, behind him, but he saw nobody. Then he heard laughter.

"Up, Angelo, look up!" Logan encouraged. "Is there something wrong with your neck?" Angelo looked up and saw Logan perched in a tree, giggling at the scene in front of him. Angelo somehow managed to turn even redder. The prodigy looked like he was holding his breath at this point, but he was actually holding in laughter.

"Holding in laughter, huh?" Logan asked, as he got down from the tree. "That won't last long, not with you. I've seen Pepsi playing with you before, and I know you are very, very ticklish." Angelo started to squirm away from Pepsi, but Logan went behind him and held him tight in a bear hug. Angelo broke out into a cold sweat. Logan was usually very nice to him, but he had a sadistic streak Angelo had only ever seen in his older brother. He was so screwed.

"Why ahahahahahare you doing thihihihihis?" Angelo asked.

"Don't you remember? I wanted to help you with school by making you less stressed out about everything. And you don't look very stressed now, so it must be working!" Logan chuckled as Angelo tried to hold in hysterical laughter. Tried and failed, that is.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHORE!" Angelo howled, tears of laughter welling up in his eyes. Logan grinned and poked the poor boy's sides over and over, letting his fingers dig into ticklish flesh.

"Come on, Angelo, hold still! It can't be that bad," the redhead taunted. Angelo couldn't hold himself up any more, and collapsed laughing.

"GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! STOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOP! _NON CE LA FACCIO_ (1)!" The redheaded tormentor finally stopped, letting the robot prodigy breathe properly. Now Logan had a question.

"What does ' _non ce la faccio_ ' mean?"

"It means 'I can't take it' in Italian," Angelo explained. Logan did a double take.

"I didn't know you were Italian."

"It would explain a lot, though. After taking a good look at me, it's clear that I have European roots. Black hair, green eyes, olive skin."

"I guess it does. Do you only know a few words or are you fluent?"

"Fluent. I can read, write and speak in Italian. I was taught to when I was little."

"By who?"

"My parents. They're both second-generation Italian immigrants. That makes me a third-generation immigrant."

"Yeah, that explains it." The two fell silent, mainly to let Angelo get his breath back. Pepsi padded over and licked Logan's tummy. "Hey!"

"What is it?"

"Pepsi, it tickles!" Logan giggled. Angelo grinned.

"Pepsi, go play with Logan, there's a good boy!" Angelo encouraged. Pepsi licked Logan over and over, pinning him down so he didn't stand a chance of escaping Pepsi's tongue. Logan tried to get into a sitting position, and it felt like Angelo was helping him. But then Angelo held him tightly in a bear hug. Logan was so screwed.

"BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! AHAHAHAHAHANGELOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!" Logan yelled. This was too much for the former tormentor to handle at once. Pepsi was absolutely ruthless, and so was his owner! Angelo was poking and prodding Logan's ribs like there was no tomorrow, and Logan was sure that he had a big grin on his face. Oh, how Logan wanted to torture the smartass when he had the chance.

"Relax, Logan, I'll be as merciful to you as you were to me. Unfortunately, that's not much." Angelo snickered as he stuck a finger into Logan's belly button. Logan squealed, feeling as if he had taken an electric shock to the stomach. Angelo kept this up for the next half-hour (but it felt like half a century to Logan) until he finally stopped with the torture of the former tormentor's senses. After being released from the Italian's hold, the redhead staggered away to a spot only a few feet away from Angelo and collapsed, letting the laughter dissipate out of his system. Pepsi followed him, nudging the boy's abused stomach. The teenaged redhead flinched with the slight touch, whimpering with pain. Angelo was beginning to get rather worried about his friend. Had he gone too far with getting revenge? Pepsi also noticed something was wrong and tried to resolve it by snuggling. Logan smiled as he felt warm, soft fur against his skin. "It's like he's trying to say he's sorry for messing with us," Angelo remarked.

"Oh, Pepsi, it's not your fault. Angelo's just being a prick right now and you were only following orders," Logan soothed.

"Hey! Why am I the prick? You started it!" Angelo pointed out.

"Fair point, but you certainly went longer with me than I did with you!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!" Pepsi unwittingly resolved the issue by lying down in front of them and lying on his back. He didn't care about the argument that was going on; he just wanted belly rubs. Angelo reached out his hand to oblige the dog, giggling as Pepsi's leg twitched uncontrollably. Logan also joined in, and the lucky Golden Retriever felt the rare luxury of feeling four hands scratch him at once. (Basically doggy heaven.)

"Sorry," Angelo muttered. "I was a prick."

"We were both pricks," Logan replied, taking a hand off Pepsi's tummy to rub the genius' back. He was surprised to see Angelo squeal and sit up straight, instead of being hunched over his dog like just a few seconds before. Logan grinned as his friend started blushing. "Don't tell me that's another sweet spot, too!"

"I just have a very sensitive back," the robot prodigy muttered. Logan grinned and started rubbing the black-haired boy's back even more. Angelo's back arched and he squeaked. "Nonononono! Logan, don't do that!" He giggled a little and a tiny grin was on his face. Logan decided to cut him loose early and go back to giving Pepsi belly rubs. He could totally torture Angelo with this later on, anyway.

"Well, I guess there are worse places to be ticklish," Logan remarked, as he got up. "I'm going home now, Angelo. Bye, you smartass ticklish prick."

"Don't call me that!" Angelo whined, blushing a dark red that matched Logan's hair. Logan chuckled and walked home. He easily had the best bit of blackmail on the school genius. Sure, it was incredibly juvenile, but he'd take what he could get.

"Come on, Pepsi. Let's go home," Angelo muttered. Pepsi walked with him all the way to the door, pressing the doorbell with his nose. (Pepsi's a smart dog.) Exhausted, the teenage science buff changed into something more comfortable to sleep in and collapsed into his bed. It had been a long day.

* * *

Translations

1: I can't take it!


	10. A nasty surprise

_Wednesday, May 1st_

* * *

Angelo came to school early enough for the library to be free of people. (Of course, what Angelo didn't know was that the library was almost always free of people.) He had some investigating to do about why he had to leave so suddenly. He knew there had been security concerns about the place that caused major donors to back out and basically bankrupted the school, but he needed more to go on. He searched up the name Golden River Academy on Google, and he found a news article that spilled the tea on it all.

* * *

**SCHOOL SHUTS DOWN AFTER KIDNAPPING SCANDAL**

_Prestigious private international boarding school, Golden River Academy has been forced into closing after multiple students were kidnapped off the school grounds by a notorious anarchist anti-government gang that are calling themselves the New Wave of Intellect. Their modus operandi has been to target students that were child prodigies (usually science and technology based) and kidnapping them so they would do their bidding in creating a secret project that was supposed to take over the world. The students would be kidnapped from the school grounds, taken to their base (currently unknown) and be forced to work on their plan for global domination before being dumped, typically by the side of the road. The kidnapping victims have been interviewed multiple times by the police, but none could remember where the base was or had any idea what they were working on. Some said a car, others said a tank, others claimed it was a bomb. We tried to talk to the administration team of the Golden River Academy, but we have received no word from them at the time of writing this._

_"It's an utter disgrace," a mother of one of the students said to us. "I wouldn't pay good money to a school only to hear about kids being abducted because of a lack of security. It is their responsibility to keep my child safe."_

_"My daughter is a science prodigy, and this kidnapping revelation makes me worried for his life," a father of one of the students told us. "What if I read the paper one day and see my son's face on the front, and that the headline says he's been kidnapped by a gang of conspiracy theorist lunatics? I may have an old-fashioned way of thinking, but I believe a child should feel safe going to school."_

_A student at the Golden River Academy, who doesn't want their name to be repeated here, said, "The biggest fear on campus is that someone will be kidnapped and nobody will know about it until it's too late to get them back. Or maybe they'll kidnap someone who isn't a science prodigy, but has a rich family who will be willing to pay a ransom to get them back. There are a lot of kids here who are rich, and a lot of them are worried that they'll be next."_

_More of this in due time._

* * *

Angelo slowly read this in shock. He knew that there were security problems and eventually the school went bankrupt due to nobody wanting to sponsor a school their child could go missing from, but he had no idea what they really meant by it. Reading the news article now was super scary. He found more articles about it, but they repeated what he'd just read in different formats. Exhausted and paranoid, Angelo turned off the computer and went to registration. Maxwell knew something was up and tried his best to play the role of the supportive friend.

"Angelo, are you OK?" Maxwell asked. This prompted Reuben to also try to be friendly and supportive to Angelo. After all, Maxwell was doing it.

"Yeah, you look like you've had a nasty shock," Reuben said, guiding Angelo to a seat between him and Maxwell and trying to force him down into it, but Angelo ended up going to his regular seat next to Logan. He collapsed into it, looking as if he would have fainted if he had stood up for one more second. Maxwell glared at Angelo's back. That was it. He had tried playing nice, now he was going to play dirty.

"What happened?" Logan asked.

"You won't believe what I found out about my old school," Angelo sighed. Maxwell, who had sneakily been listening to Angelo talking to Logan and fuming that it wasn't him, shouted out Angelo's private question to the whole class.

"Angelo, did I just hear you say something about your old school? Could you tell us more?" Maxwell asked, in a voice that was almost comically loud. Around thirty students turned to look at the precocious teenager. Angelo jumped and Maxwell had a big smirk on his face at the reaction. He was about to find out just how Angelo had been doing before he got to his school. And it felt really good to make Angelo, someone who was normally so cool and collected, jump about a foot in the air because of what he said. Maxwell felt a whole lot more powerful, and, just for a second, felt as if he could take over the world.

"Maxwell, I wasn't talking to you!" Angelo blurted out. "I was talking to Logan! And why do you even need to know?" Angelo was quietly freaking out, and started looking for his stress ball. He put it in his pocket and started squeezing it and tried to stop himself from hyperventilating while in the classroom. Logan patted Angelo's back supportively to try to calm him down.

"You can tell me about it later, if you want," Logan muttered. "You don't have to tell me about it if you don't want to." Angelo nodded, suddenly very quiet. Logan was so mad at Maxwell and Reuben for freaking Angelo out. He was so sweet and caring and funny and smart and a better person than him before breakfast and - what was he thinking? He was thinking like a lovestruck teenager! And then it struck him.

He _was_ a lovestruck teenager.

And then another thing struck him.

He couldn't let Angelo know about this.

"Thanks," Angelo smiled. Little did Logan know, but he'd had a crush on Logan since the day he'd found him drawing in the rain. But he was terrified. What if he thought that they were just friends and it ruined what they already had? What if he rejected him, told everyone, and he was picked on by everyone? No. He couldn't let Logan know about this.

"Class, quiet down so I can do the register," Miss Turrets droned, in the same manner she did all the time. Angelo barely stayed awake for the register, answering to his name just in time. Before he knew it, he had to go to his next class. But the Italian knew that he wouldn't be concentrating much in today's I.T lesson. Luckily for him, nobody else did.

* * *

Logan met Angelo in a quiet corner of the canteen. "Sorry about Maxwell, big guy," the loner apologized. "He's a prick."

"He was eavesdropping," Angelo told him. "You don't need to apologize for a guy with no sense of boundaries. And even I know he's a double-crossing prick. Come on, that guy claimed he would never bully another student, and later that day, he and Reuben pushed me out of the way in the locker room so they could have my spot! And he called me useless in front of everyone!"

"And now he's complaining that he's unpopular. God must love stupid people like Maxwell. He made so many of them." Angelo snickered.

"You know, if Maxwell keeps getting burns like these, he might have to go to hospital. You might want to watch it."

"You, Angelo Riva? You're telling me to watch it? You, of all people? You demolished Maxwell as he raged and screamed. You were ice-cold, and it was awesome." Angelo's eyes widened, and he blushed. Logan's butterflies increased.

"Thanks," Angelo muttered. He felt a little light-headed all of a sudden. Thank goodness he was sitting down or his knees would have buckled. Dammit, Logan was looking cute right now. He didn't have the time to dwell on it as he said goodbye to Logan just before he went to his double chemistry lesson, without him . . . and with Maxwell, and a bunch of other nerds who hated him. Oh, whoop-de-doo.

"So, Angelo, buddy. What's your invention plan? You were about to tell me yesterday, but we got . . . interrupted," Maxwell started, a false smile on his face. Angelo tried to be diplomatic about the topic of his invention. It was his way of not letting anyone know that he thought Maxwell was a creep.

"Maxwell, I want this to be a surprise, so I'm not telling anyone about what I'm making," Angelo explained. "I like to give my teachers a shock."

"The good kind or the bad kind?"

"The crazy kind!" Angelo laughed. "This is going to be so much fun!" Maxwell was confused. He thought that Angelo was going to deliberately get himself disqualified from the incoming Invention Convention, but he seemed genuinely excited for it. Maybe he was reading between the lines wrong. Anyway, that wasn't going to stop him from subtly driving Angelo crazy. Maxwell figured that if Angelo went nuts, he'd have to leave.

"Hey, Angelo, what was your old school like? It had to be better than this place, right?" Maxwell and his posse of nerds chuckled, trying to appeal to Angelo's sense of humour and (more importantly) get him to talk to them more. But Angelo didn't get the hint.

"This school is actually better. Everyone's so much nicer to me, and I finally know what it's like to go to a normal school," Angelo told him. "I mean, sure, my old school had more resources, but the people there were truly horrible! I'm glad I left, now I think about it! That was where I spent the worst years of my life!"

"Really?" Maxwell asked, breaking out of character. "But it was a private school!"

"There's always a skeleton in everyone's closet. You don't always expect it sometimes because of the setting or the person," Angelo replied. "The school was of a high quality and received awards for being a good standard school and won lots of competitions with other private school and all that stuff, but what they don't tell you is that if they find you being bullied by one of the paying students and you're there on a scholarship, they do nothing about it. Maybe they thought that they didn't need to help the scholarship students because they were freeloaders and the kid bullying them paid to be there."

Maxwell was taken aback, but tried to look on the bright side of things. "Come on, Angelo. So the school you went to had a few bad apples. I'm sure it wasn't that bad."

"Everyone picked on each other for the dumbest of things, and you could easily tell with nothing but an old phone. If they're rich, then they'll laugh at you for not having the money for a newer, better model. If they're a snobby, nerdy kid that believes that they will change the world the moment they are eligible for work, they'll laugh at you for not designing a better phone for you to use instead of the one you have. Either way, people will laugh at you and your phone." Angelo sighed at the flood of bad memories. " _Mazzo di cretini materialistici_ (1)." Maxwell didn't know what it meant, but he definitely didn't want Angelo to repeat it in English. He decided to leave the boy genius alone. Even someone as obnoxious as the one and only Maxwell Norwood-Sykes knew that this conversation was over.

"Class, get out your textbooks and a periodic table and solve the empirical formula questions on page 346," the supply teacher droned. "Your regular teacher's gone for today, so I'll be supervising you. And if I have to deal with any funny business, I will have you reported." The class sighed and got on with the work. These days, their teacher was never there (nobody had been told why) and their grades were beginning to suffer for it. Angelo's hand shot up. "Yes, boy?"

"Where's the teacher?" Angelo asked.

"The teacher's whereabouts are currently unknown, and even if I did know, you wouldn't be told. Now get on with your work!" A few nerds tittered unkindly. Angelo sighed and completed the mind-numbing task of one question after another. The boy genius was beginning to realize why the majority of the students here didn't like the idea of anything scientific and particularly hated the rapidly approaching Invention Convention. If he was forced to compete in scientific competitions, then he wouldn't be too pleased, either. Once he was finished with the questions, he turned to the back of his book and started sketching plans for his disqualifying act in the Invention Convention. The substitute teacher noticed that Angelo wasn't doing the work and crept up behind him. "If you want to have no academic qualifications, my boy, then keep doing what you're doing," he hissed in Angelo's ear. Angelo stiffened, and more kids giggled. But as the teacher's beady eye swept over the class, they all fell silent again. Maxwell ripped the page out of Angelo's book. The teacher whipped around and glared at him. That was when Maxwell broke out that winning smile of his.

"I made a mistake in my work by using the wrong page in the textbook, so I ripped it out of my exercise book," Maxwell lied. "I'll put it in the recycling bin now."

"Oh, good," the teacher replied as he went back to grading papers. Maxwell folded the precious plans in half, ripped it into little bits in front of the stunned Italian and threw it into the bin. He kept one scrap of paper and tossed it at Angelo.

"Consider that to be your punishment for not telling me your invention plans the first time around," Maxwell whispered, with a self-righteous smirk on his face knowing that he'd destroyed something Angelo had just been working on. Angelo sighed as he went through his answers. This wasn't shaping up to be a good day.

* * *

After the disastrous chemistry lesson, Angelo found Logan in the cafeteria. The redheaded lone wolf waved him over enthusiastically. "Angelo, thank God you're here!" Logan eagerly babbled. He stopped once he saw the dejected look on Angelo's face. "What happened to you?"

"Maxwell happened," Angelo replied. "I was sketching a plan of a new invention and he ripped it out of my book! He told the teacher that he wrote down the answers to the wrong questions and he ripped it up and threw it all in the bin!"

"Now that's just low." Logan was fuming mad with Maxwell. This was no way to treat Angelo, who hadn't done anything to warrant such treatment.

"And then he kept one of the pieces and tossed it at my face, telling me that I should consider it my punishment for not telling him what I was going to make for the Invention Convention the first time," Angelo whined.

"This is bullying, Angelo. You've got to report this."

"I've reported bullies before, but it only got worse! I could walk into a room at my old school and people would see me and laugh!" Then the teen smiled. "Ah well, more fool him, I guess."

"What?" Logan spluttered.

"You'll find out later, Logan, I promise!" Angelo grinned, as he ate the last few bites of his pasta and got up to leave.

"But I wanna know now!" Logan pleaded.

"Fine, I'll tell you," Angelo sighed. "Bye, Logan."

"But you said you'd tell me!" Logan whined.

"I did say I'd tell you. But I never said I'd tell you now," Angelo teased. Logan was mad at Angelo now. He'd tricked him!

"Angelo Riva, you prick!" Logan snapped. "I want to know! Don't leave me wanting more, please! Give me something!"

"Later, Logan," Angelo smiled, as he went outside. Logan shoved what was left of his ham and cheese sandwich into his mouth and ran after him. He ran outside, looking around like a madman, but couldn't see anything. Well, actually, he could see lots of things, but he couldn't see Angelo. He'd somehow vanished into thin air. Logan started checking all Angelo's normal hiding places. Library? No. Canteen? No, that was the place he just left. Why would he go back to the place he was trying to get out of? There was always the football court, though. But Angelo wouldn't go there . . . would he? On a whim, Logan checked the place out. And there he was, playing with the sporty kids.

"Nice one, Angelo!" one guy called out. Angelo dribbled past two other guys and aimed for the goal. He missed, but he didn't seem too caught up in it and accepted his failure. "That was pretty good!"

"You're just saying that because I'm new," Angelo chuckled.

"Nah, you're not bad for a nerd," a girl admitted. The other players laughed, but not in a cruel way. They seemed to be genuinely enjoying Angelo's company. Angelo smiled, waved them goodbye as he left the football field . . . and walked into Logan. The redhead glared at him.

"What were you going to tell me, Angelo?" Logan demanded. Angelo remained calm.

"I told you, Logan, later," Angelo soothed. But Logan wasn't having it.

"But when's later? How do I know that you don't mean never?" Logan was getting really mad. Was Angelo tricking him?

"Logan, I promise, I will tell you the next time we run into Maxwell," Angelo swore. Then the warning bell rang. "Registration. We have to go or we'll be late!" Angelo dragged Logan down the hall to get there just before registration. Maxwell and Reuben were there already, lying in wait for the duo. Reuben was snickering at Angelo, which could only mean that Maxwell had told him what went down in chemistry class.

"How was chemistry, Angelo?" Reuben mocked. Maxwell tried to make it look like he didn't care about Angelo's existence, but anyone who saw the nerd could tell that he was loving the confused look on the Italian intellectual's face.

"What was so interesting about chemistry? I never knew you were such a fan of empirical formulas," Angelo retorted.

"Aww, he's acting like he doesn't know what we're talking about," Maxwell taunted. "I'm talking about your precious invention plans that you made after doing all the work. The ones that got, you know . . . ripped up? After all that hard work you put into it?"

"Yeah, all that hard work you put into it," Reuben echoed. Angelo started looking around the room wildly. He looked scared. That was when Maxwell went in for the final blow, feeling like a prized boxer. He was more like a savage wild animal.

"But I guess it is all your own fault, Angelo. Besides, you forgot a rule that this place has. When you are asked to do something, do it. Here's an example: when I ask you to tell me what you're planning for the Invention Convention, you do it. There are consequences for disobeying me, you know. Do you want more of your precious plans ripped up?" Maxwell was feeling on top of his game, and Angelo looked like he was about to vomit. He was pale and even had one hand over his mouth. The rest of the class looked on in shock at the scene. The blond nerd was being a typical schoolyard bully playing mind games and underhanded tricks, and Angelo was his helpless victim. "I notice that you have your hand over your mouth? Is that because you've got nothing to say to me? Come on, remove your hand. It'll be fine. Unless you're gonna cry." Angelo removed his hand . . . and burst out laughing at the nerds who thought they'd won.

"Maxwell! You don't understand!" Angelo laughed. "But I really wish you did, because it would so funny!"

"Stop laughing, you - you disrespectful troublemaker!" Maxwell screamed, stomping his foot like a child. "What's so funny about your work being ripped up? Huh? Nothing! Nothing is funny about it!"

"Because that _was_ my plan for the Invention Convention, Maxwell!" Angelo howled, as tears of laughter threatened to roll down his face. "You've been asking me for those plans since it was announced! And the one time you actually had it, you ripped it up and threw it away! You ripped up my plan for the Invention Convention as my punishment for not telling you my plan for the Invention Convention!"

"What?!" Maxwell spluttered, as students laughed hysterically. "But you're the one who drew them; why didn't you tell me?"

"I would have gotten in trouble for talking if I did that; we were still in a lesson," Angelo pointed out. "And you had the plans in your hands; why didn't you read them before ripping them up in some stupid dominance move to piss me off?"  
  
"BURN!" a bunch of kids yelled, laughing at Maxwell's utter failure at bullying the new cool kid on the block.

"Now this is how you do a putdown," one boy whispered to another. "This guy is so cool!"

"Told you I would tell you the next time we ran into Maxwell," Angelo whispered to Logan. "You know what, Logan? You were right. I am ice cold."

"I am going to hold this over your head forever," Logan teased.

"As if you could reach," Angelo teased. Logan poked Angelo right where his ribcage ended and his sides began, and it was all the genius could do to not let out a feminine squeal in front of the class. Logan grinned, cracking his knuckles.

"You'd better start hoping that I don't bump into you outside of school," Logan grinned. Angelo gulped, and Logan beamed widely at the now nervous teen. _He looks so cute when he's nervous,_ Logan thought. He forced himself to snap out of his loved-up state. Angelo would never talk to him again if he knew that Logan had a gay crush on him. He just knew it.

"Class, what are you doing?! I can hear the noise from here!" Miss Turrets roared. "Take a seat, all of you, before I start handing out detentions like cookies!" Everyone flowed back to their seats like water. Maxwell was fuming silently about his lack of success with Angelo thus far. He had to knock Angelo off his pedestal now before it was too late. "Finally!" the terrible teacher huffed. "On with the register, then."

After the register, Logan and Angelo went to their double study period. This was a lesson that the students had once a week when they could knuckle down and catch up on homework in peace. "What is that guy's problem?" Angelo asked. "I think he and Reuben have made it their life's work to get rid of me."

"You're probably right," Logan acknowledged. "Let's forget about him so we can get down to work. After having your plans for the Invention Convention destroyed, I guess it'll be good for you to get back to work." Logan was slightly giddy at the opportunity to be so close to his crush, and started staring off into space. Angelo quietly freaked out about Logan and tapped his shoulder to get his attention.

"Logan, are you OK?" Angelo asked. Logan stared into Angelo's worried, green eyes. "You looked like you were going to fall asleep."

"Oh, it's nothing, Angelo. I'm just a little tired," Logan fibbed, blushing dark red at being caught. Angelo nodded and started sketching the plans for what had to be his craziest invention yet. Would he get into trouble with both the school and his parents? Most definitely. Would it all be worth it to stop a hopelessly rigged and unpopular competition from taking place? Also yes. Angelo got to work with the enthusiasm he'd never shown to his schoolwork. Sure, he got perfect scores and he understood it, but inventing was his passion. And it wasn't like he had any more homework to do; in true nerd fashion, he'd completed them all ahead of time and handed it in early (but only a few days early and not in class, so he didn't earn the wrath of his peers). Angelo took out his sketchpad and started drawing his plans for the Invention Convention. He already knew what it looked like in his mind and it was going to be . . . explosive. (But not in a harmful way. Angelo didn't have the heart to do that to anybody.) His Invention Convention submission was going to be the talk of the school once it was submitted, maybe even the whole town. And this was never a big town to begin with.

Logan watched Angelo work with a sense of fascination, forgetting about his own homework in the progress. This was like a sneaky look into Angelo's mind; a forbidden peek into the inner workings of an adolescent genius. He stared at Angelo as the unaware savant continued with his masterpiece. And that was when he received a harsh reminder to stop daydreaming/staring.

"Get on with some work or you can have a detention by the end of the week, wise guy," a teacher muttered, as she stalked away. Logan got out some maths homework and did about half about it, just so the teacher didn't think that she was a slacker. A little while after she left him alone, Logan tried to get a little closer to Angelo, the object of his affections (not that he knew that). But prying Angelo away from his work without making him suspicious and driving him away was easier said than done. Feeling like James Bond, Logan inched closer and closer to Angelo, who continued working, blissfully ignorant of what Logan was trying to do.

The scrawny redhead's plan was to slowly sidestep closer to Angelo while sticking closely to the bookshelves, so he could use them as his excuse (e.g. saying that he was looking for a certain book, claiming he was done with her work and wanted to do some silent reading, etc.) At a painfully slow rate, Logan tried to get a good look at Angelo as he innocently laboured on with his beloved project. Logan could only catch a tiny glimpse of it all, and it confused him. Why would he need glitter for his invention? It didn't make any sense. As he leaned in closer to the seemingly forbidden plans, a problem occurred. Logan lost his footing and fell flat on his face, accidentally taking a shelf of books down with him. Students pointed and laughed as Logan tried to get up, only to be foiled by a rather heavy book that didn't just take its sweet time falling off the shelf, but fell directly on his head, just like in a cartoon. Angelo saw that Logan was in trouble and went to help. "Logan, what were you doing?" Angelo asked, as he readjusted the shelf. (The shelves were flimsy metal ones with insecure hooks to hold them up that quickly collapsed. The school kept them around because they were easy to pretend to repair and the sturdier shelves were more expensive.)

"I was, uh . . . looking for a book," Logan lied, refusing to look Angelo in the eye for more than a few seconds. "You know, for homework and . . . stuff."

"Let me rephrase that question. Logan, what were you actually doing?" Angelo asked. Logan blushed three shades of red. Angelo thought he looked adorable.

"I was a little lonely and wanted to sit next to you," Logan whispered. Angelo felt his stomach flip, but in a good way. "Sorry for being such a nuisance."

"It's OK. Get your stuff and come over once you're done helping me pick up these books." That was when Logan noticed just how many books had been tipped over, and he groaned. This was going to take a while, since the shelf that had been knocked over was one that held a lot of books. It was a tedious task they had, sorting all the books into alphabetical order before placing them back onto the shelves. Logan tried to do as much as he could, but Angelo still did more than him and he felt rather guilty about it. After all, this was his fault.

"I'll go get my stuff now," Logan muttered. "Sorry, Angelo."

"It's fine. Don't worry about it. Go get your stuff now." That was all he needed to dart over to his table, where he sat alone, collect his stuff and half-walk, half-sprint over to Angelo. Logan was slightly giddy about the situation. He got to sit next to Angelo Riva, his crush! All he had to do was keep his cool and not say or do anything stupid around him. But he had a feeling that this wouldn't happen. Logan was very clumsy when nervous, and Angelo was making him really, really nervous. He had to pretend to be doing something important so he didn't look suspicious.

Angelo's anxiety levels were skyrocketing at the prospect of sitting next to his crush. His heart was beating faster and the room seemed to be getting hotter. He realized that his plans for the Invention Convention were still out in the open! Logan could see it! Angelo stashed it in his bag and got out different plans. These were for his environmentally friendly, solar-powered, flying car and it was almost done - the planning stage, that is. He just had to actually get the system into the car at this point, and how to seal the car back up once he was done. And then he had to actually do it, since theory wasn't the same as practice. Man, inventing was really hard sometimes. He knew what he wanted to do, he knew what he had to do to get there, he just got stuck on how to do some of the steps. That was all. It was basically writer's block, but for inventors. Inventors' block. Yeah, that sounded like a good name for what he had. Dammit, why was he trying to think up names for the creative restraints he had when he was supposed to be completing his sketch for his car? Angelo stared really hard at the invention sketches, as if the harder he stared, the more likely he was to think of a new method of completing his precious car. But he couldn't think of anything. Then the bell rang, and both teenagers jumped. They weren't expecting it to be so sudden. Or so loud. Other students were packing up their bags; some were staying for extra study time or just detention. Logan made a move to leave, but waited until Angelo had finished packing up his stuff. The redhead blushed as he tried to make it look like he wasn't waiting for Angelo, but he was hilariously bad at it. The boy genius raised a cynical eyebrow at the redhead's dorky antics. Logan's acting was adorably bad.

"What are you doing?" he asked the loner. Logan jumped and scrambled to put his stuff away for real. Angelo stifled a giggle. What a cutie. Logan felt like he had been humiliated in front of his crush, and twice in one day, too. Angelo would never take him seriously now. "Have you lost something?"

"No, I was just . . . just daydreaming," Logan lied. Angelo bit his tongue . . . literally. Logan felt the tension build up, and up, and up, and eventually, he cracked. "OK! I wanted to walk with you! There, I said it!" He said it quickly, but quietly, so only Angelo heard it. Angelo smiled and patted Logan's head.

"There you go. You should've just said this in the beginning, you know," Angelo soothed. "Come on, you." Gratefully, Logan got his stuff and followed Angelo out of the school. The short redhead tried to look mature and aloof in front of the Italian, but he kept tripping over his own feet . . . literally. He was so clumsy today. Why did it have to be today?

The two walked over to Angelo's house, where they saw Pepsi outside, with a bowl of water and a separate bowl of food to keep him fed and hydrated, running around the front yard happily. When he saw the friends, he barked happily and tried to jump over the fence. Angelo rushed over and started to try to pick him up, but the fence was too high. So he opened the gate and let the Golden Retriever out . . . who promptly smothered him in licks. "Help!" Angelo whimpered. Logan laughed at the absurdity of the situation. "Logan, shut up!"

"You look silly!" Logan blurted out, clutching his sides. "Pepsi, off!" Pepsi scrambled off Angelo and started nudging Logan's hand, wanting a scratch under his chin. He got it, along with tummy rubs.

"What did you do to get him to obey you more than me?" Angelo huffed and crossed his arms at the scene.

"Quiet before I tell him to play with you, Angelo." Pepsi was rubbed into near-unconsciousness by Logan while Angelo went into the house and came out with a lead, which he clipped to his dog's collar. Pepsi barked happily as he got up and ran over to the park, dragging Angelo along with him. Logan had to break into a jog just to keep up with them. "Slow down, you two!"

"Not my fault your legs are too short! Blame your genetics!" Angelo called out. Logan fumed. Crush on Angelo or not, he was seriously pushing his luck with Logan's patience. It wasn't his fault he was short! And Angelo could have at least waited for him!

"Angelo Riva, you son of a bitch," Logan panted, once he finally got to the park.

"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"For my mother's sake, I make sure to wash it out with mouthwash before kissing her," Logan huffed. "Why didn't you wait for me?" Angelo felt wracked with guilt.

"Sorry," he muttered, staring at the ground. Logan was pissed, though he couldn't help but think that Angelo's face when he felt guilty was a little cute. But that didn't excuse him. Not in the slightest.

"You had the nerve to tell me to blame my genetics, too," Logan sighed. "Angelo, you little smart-mouth, I can only think of one thing to say: Pepsi, play with Angelo!"

"Logan, no!" Angelo pleaded. But he was too late. Pepsi had pinned him down and started licking his tummy over and over, making him scream with laughter. That dog became worse with age. "YAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"Have fun with him, Angelo!" Logan taunted, as he ran off, leaving Angelo to deal with the ticklish consequences.

"LOGAHAHAHAHAHAHANAHAHAHAHAHAN, YOHOHOHOHOHOU'RE MEHEHEHEHEHEAN!" Angelo laughed. "PEHEHEHEHEHEHEPSIHIHIHIHI, OFF!" Angelo collapsed onto his knees, and Pepsi became worried about his master. The Golden Retriever started nuzzling and licking the side of Angelo's face. "Ew, gross," Angelo groaned, giggling. Pepsi barked and reverted back to licking him.

Screams of hysterical, helpless laughter could be heard for a long, long time.

It took Pepsi a full two hours to finally stop considering Angelo as anything other than a big, giggly tickle toy, and started snuggling next to him. Angelo, meanwhile, had to slowly recover from the torture he'd been put through by his supposedly loyal dog. "You are a mean dog, you know that?" Pepsi whined. "Don't look at me like that! You betrayed me and let Logan wrap you around his little finger!" Then Pepsi broke out the puppy dog eyes and even looked like he was smiling. "I - you - you don't even look guilty! How is this supposed to help your defence?" But the more Angelo looked, the more adorable Pepsi seemed. The cuteness built up, and up, and up . . . and eventually, the dam broke. "I can't stay mad at you! You know that! Oh, come here!" Pepsi started snuggling close to him, at that point, and the genius reciprocated it for a few seconds before getting up. "Come on. Let's go home." The two walked back home, and Angelo focused on getting home. All he wanted to do now was go to bed, recharging for a new day.

* * *

Little did he know that Maxwell was plotting Angelo's demise. He was getting desperate now. He wanted something, anything that would get rid of Angelo or at least make sure he wasn't as popular anymore. He sat at home, in his father's mansion, plotting as he ate one cookie after another. "I will get you, you little show off," Maxwell muttered. "I will get you, Angelo Riva."

* * *

Translations

1: Bunch of materialistic jerks. Italian.


	11. Wrong names and wrong answers

_Time skip: skipping Thursday, May 2nd and going to Friday, May 3rd (because nothing important happened on Thursday)_

* * *

Angelo stopped bringing his invention plans to school after what happened on Wednesday with Maxwell in that fateful chemistry lesson. He was worried Maxwell would go through his stuff when he wasn't looking in a search for the designs, and Angelo wasn't going to risk it. He unloaded his worries onto Logan in the canteen at breaktime.

"Maxwell's getting really crazy now," Angelo complained. "He straight up ripped the invention design out of my book in that chemistry lesson and lied right to the teacher's face about it. I'm just glad he didn't look at it, but I doubt I'll be that lucky next time."

"I don't think he'll try that again. The sting of humiliation will be too much for him," Logan soothed. "Remember Wednesday?"

"I guess, but now he'll just look for another thing to bully me about," Angelo sighed. "That guy wants me gone."

"He does, but not everyone does. People around here really like you, especially the female population," the redhead teased. Angelo rolled his eyes and blushed.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, you tiny traitor," the genius muttered. Logan was taken aback.

"Where the fuck did traitor come from?"

"On Wednesday, you told Pepsi to play with me and then ran off home, leaving me to deal with the consequences for two hours straight!" Angelo blushed at the memory while Logan fought back laughter. "With that logic, you are a traitor with my own dog working with you as your double agent."

"Angelo, I doubt you were hailed as a child genius for nothing. You of all people know that Pepsi would trust anyone. He's a Retriever, and they're a happy-go-lucky breed by nature. That's why they're marketed towards families with kids." There was a pause.

"I'm still mad at you, though." But he wasn't, not really. Angelo was a huge pushover already, and that was without the crush on his best friend. He couldn't help it! Logan just looked so sweet and happy and - what was he thinking?! He wasn't supposed to have those thoughts about his best friend! Logan would hate him forever and everyone would laugh at him! He'd had enough of being teased in his last school and it wasn't going to start again in a place he actually liked, with people he liked and not a bunch of pretentious spoiled brats. Not if he had anything to do or say about it. "Seriously, who taught you to torture people like that?"

"I learned it from my brother," Logan admitted. "He always thought it was funny to leave my hand in cold water overnight so I wet myself in my sleep, put little strips of paper into my umbrella so it all cascaded down onto my head, putting baby powder into the hair-dryer, Vaseline on the door handle - stuff like that. He also thought it was hilarious to tickle me into a hysterical, giggling mess if I didn't do what he wanted, too."

"He sounds like my brother before he left home," Angelo confided. "He would play with me, but he knew exactly how to mess with me if I was being too much of a brat in his eyes." Angelo chuckled nervously as the memories of one-sided tickle fights came flooding back to him. "He was ruthless when playing, but not unnecessarily cruel. I never remembered him being a mean brother to me. I guess this is what parents think of when they hear about older siblings. They expect them to be protective and loving, but competitive."

"That's what they want, but it's rare for that to be what they get. Siblings are unpredictable." Just when the two wanted to ruminate more on the nature of elder siblings, the bell rang and students wearily trudged from one place to another for the sake of academia. People greeted Angelo as they passed him and they greeted Logan too, even if they were only being polite.

"Hey Angelo!" And then, a few seconds later, "Oh, hey, Logan!"

"Hi, big guy! Hi, Logan!"

"Morning, boys!"

Angelo walked in to his history lesson only to find that the same substitute teacher who had supervised his chemistry lesson was about to supervise his history lesson, too. He suppressed a dissatisfied groan as he and the subpar substitute locked eyes. Maxwell snickered at the coincidence. "Oh, it's you," the teacher snarked.

"Good morning, sir," Angelo greeted politely. The teacher sighed and got out a blank piece of paper.

"The register system is down, so write your names on this piece of paper," the teacher instructed. "Now, who would like to deliver this to reception?" Maxwell put his hand up.

"Yes, you there! When everyone's done, you can take this to reception." Maxwell preened, and Angelo waited for his turn to sign the paper. He signed it, and then the teacher snatched it out of his hands. "You there! Which name is yours?"

"The one at the bottom, sir," Angelo answered, pointing it out. "I'm Angelo Riva." The substitute curled his lip in disdain for the boy.

"How ironic that the word 'angel' can be found in the name of someone who is one of the worst students I have had to deal with," the teacher sneered, as students muttered to each other, confused. Angelo wasn't disruptive. He was a model student. And that was where the plot thickened: why did this guy have it in for him? What was this thing about Angelo that he despised? The lesson continued, and the class was tasked with taking notes of a documentary about medicine through time. As Angelo dutifully took notes of the documentary, while Maxwell aimed crumpled pieces of paper at his back. They all missed, except for one, the biggest one. It hit a member of the Red Bandanas, who turned to look at him angrily.

"If you do that again, you are dead, Moneybags," he hissed, as he turned around. Maxwell gulped, but wasn't deterred by the threat. He had one last chance to mess with Angelo, and he wasn't going to squander it. He took the piece of paper, balled it up and threw it at Angelo. And it hit him. But he was caught by the teacher, who stopped the documentary to see what was going on. Angelo turned around to see Maxwell looking terrified. That kid was going to need a very good excuse to get out of this mess.

"What's your name and why were you throwing paper at Andre?" he demanded.

"Who's Andre?" Maxwell asked.

"That boy in front of you that you threw paper at!" the substitute pointed out. Maxwell snickered, as did a few other students.

"My name's Angelo," Angelo told him.

"Not now!" the teacher snapped, turning to Maxwell. "Why were you throwing paper at him?" the teacher asked.

"I was . . . uh . . . I was trying to aim for the bin but I missed," Maxwell lied. Astonishingly, the teacher believed him.

"Well, I want you to put it in the bin and never do that again," the teacher instructed. Angelo's jaw dropped as Maxwell took the paper and put it in the bin, without facing even the slightest of repercussions from the teachers. Other students were also quietly outraged. Public opinion of Maxwell Norwood-Sykes dropped to well into the negative numbers. "Now let's get on with the lesson and not have to deal with any more misunderstandings." Logan and Angelo looked at each other, astounded for all the wrong reasons. But they still had to knuckle down and take more notes about the progression of medicine. Maxwell looked on at what he had caused with a grin on his face. He would make sure Angelo never heard the end of this.

* * *

The first chance the blond nerd got (which was during lunch), Maxwell tried to taunt Angelo by calling him by the wrong name. "Andre!" Maxwell called from the other side of the canteen, as Reuben and a few other nerds pointed and laughed. "Andre! Andre! I want to talk to you! Ignoring me is rude, you know!"

"That guy is so annoying!" Logan groaned.

"Just ignore him," Angelo sighed. "He'll have to stop soon."

But Maxwell wouldn't stop. He and his followers persecuted Angelo all throughout lunch and at the start of the next lesson, which happened to be a double PE class. Today, they would be doing something that Maxwell and Reuben hated with a passion: relay races. These races relied on strength and stamina, two things they didn't have due to leading a sedentary, pampered lifestyle. This lesson wouldn't be good to him, but it wouldn't be good to Angelo, either. When the time came to pick teams, Maxwell made sure to humiliate his rival . . . or at least, he tried to.

"Hey, Andre! Wanna be on my team?" Maxwell called, loud enough to get everyone's attention. Coach Hurley was confused. He wasn't in on the joke.

"Who's Andre?" he asked.

"Him!" Maxwell replied, pointing at Angelo.

"But that's Angelo," the perplexed PE teacher pointed out. "Angelo, do you know anything about this?"

"I have no idea what he's talking about, sir," Angelo denied. "Maybe this is an innocent case of mistaken identity and Andre is another boy who happens to look a lot like me." The students that knew what was going on started laughing. "I guess to solve this problem, I can meet up with this Andre guy on my own time and sort something out with him. Because if I'm being called Andre, a bunch of people must be calling him Angelo right about now and he must be really annoyed. Hey, sir, do you know a guy in this school called Andre? He must be the person I need to talk to if such a serious case of mistaken identity is going on."

"Uh . . . no," Coach Hurley replied, confused.

"Then who on earth was that guy talking about?" Angelo asked, as the amused teenagers roared with laughter. Maxwell was nothing short of livid. Angelo had completely turned the tables and now he was the one who would never hear the end of it.

"I was talking about him!" Maxwell screamed, pointing at Angelo again.

"Pointing is rude, you know," Angelo notified. "So is yelling."

"I don't care! I want you to know that I was talking about you!" Maxwell snapped. He didn't care if this got him expelled. That prick wasn't responding properly!

"Maxwell, are you OK?" Angelo asked, genuinely concerned.

"Of course I'm OK, Angelo! Get off my back!" Maxwell snapped.

"If you know that I'm Angelo, then why did you call me Andre?" Angelo asked. Maxwell realized his mistake and stopped screaming. The other teenagers were howling with laughter. "You clearly know my name, so why use a different name for me?"

"I . . . uh . . . " Maxwell stammered. Angelo, needless to say, wasn't impressed.

"This is just annoying and you're wasting everyone's time. Let's just get on with the lesson so we don't have to stay back for as long to make up for lost time," Angelo sighed.

"Now this is behaviour I want to see more often," Coach Hurley sighed. "Come on, let's sort you guys into teams and get this over with." Relay teams had been sorted and Maxwell and Angelo were up first. "On your marks . . . get set . . . go!" The first boys ran with the baton, and Angelo was near the front of the pack. He handed the baton to another team player and let them run, catching his breath. Maxwell slowed to a stop and just stared at Angelo in shock.

"What are you doing? Run! Everyone else is ahead!" a teammate yelled. Maxwell yelped and ran, handing the baton over to the disgruntled teammate. "Finally," he snapped, running away to pass the baton to another team member. But the damage was done. They were seriously behind and it was clearly Maxwell's fault. The relay ended, and the winner was neither Angelo's team nor Maxwell's team, but a different team almost entirely made up of athletes. (Not much of a surprise.)

"Good job," Coach Hurley called, as a few weary teenagers collapsed onto the floor, panting with exhaustion. "Let's take a few minutes to relax and get our strength back before starting the circuit training in the gymnasium." There was loud groaning coming from the boys. Angelo was confused.

"What's circuit training?" Angelo asked.

"Torture," Logan answered. "It is nothing short of cruel and unusual punishment. Everyone hates it, and you will too once this is over."

"Right boys, inside for the circuit training session. After this, we're through for today," Coach Hurley called. The boys trudged into the gymnasium, dreading what came next. They were greeted by a tennis table, skipping ropes, kettle bells, dumb bells, gym mats placed on the floor for sit-ups and push-ups and a punching bag with several pair of boxing gloves. "Get back into the teams you were in for the relays and choose a station," he instructed. The boys did so. Maxwell found himself with the boys he had unintentionally screwed over earlier, and they weren't too happy to see him either. Maxwell rolled his eyes. Morons, the lot of them.

"There are only five stations and six teams, What do we do?" Logan asked.

"The sixth station is a rest station," the coach explained. There was a wave of nods. "Now get to work." Everyone picked a station, and Maxwell found himself at the cardio station for 20 push-ups.

"OK, keep in time with me," one boy ordered. "Up . . . and down. That's one. Up . . . and down. Two. Up . . . and down. Three. Up . . . and down. Four." Meanwhile, Maxwell was struggling with the push-ups, and had only done two. He hoped they wouldn't notice him. But eventually, he collapsed. The other boys stared at him with disdain, as if he was an annoyance.

"No wonder we lost the relay," one guy muttered.

"Seriously? This is the best you can do?"

Maxwell ignored them and focused on Angelo. He was doing that a lot. He found that the Italian intellectual was quite content skipping, and he glared at him. That guy had it far too easy.

"Next station!" Coach Hurley called, and everyone trudged over to the next station. Angelo got dumb bells to start doing bicep curls, and Maxwell was faced with boxing gloves and a rather intimidating punching bag. This was going to be a long PE lesson.

* * *

After the lesson was over, everything hurt. "I hate these circuits," Angelo sighed, as he and Logan moved over to the changing rooms.

"Now you know how we feel," Logan griped. "And if you think it hurts now, wait until tomorrow. Everything will hurt."

"Thanks for the heads-up," Angelo sighed, as they went into the changing rooms. Maxwell came into the changing room last, and in a foul mood.

"Out of my way, Andre," he snapped, extending his arm like he was going to push the genius aside.

"You got it, Martin," Angelo replied, moving to accommodate the blond boy. Maxwell stopped in his tracks.

"My names not Martin," Maxwell replied.

"And mine's not Andre," Angelo pointed out. "Two can play at that game, kid." People laughed.

"Whatever, Angelo. Nothing about your name is too memorable, anyway," Maxwell snubbed.

"Is that why you typed it into Google and encouraged the rest of the class to do the same?" Angelo asked. The changing room went wild. Maxwell growled and, in a move that surprised everyone, ran towards Angelo and went for his throat. Angelo moved and Maxwell hit the wall with his face. Maxwell slid onto the floor and clutched his nose. He had a nosebleed.

"Ooh, that's going to hurt," Logan muttered. "Angelo, wanna get out of here?" he asked.

"Gladly," Angelo muttered, changing into his normal clothes, packing up his stuff and leaving with Logan. As soon as they were officially off school grounds, they heard barking. Loud barking.

"Who let their dog off a leash?" Angelo asked. That was when Pepsi, of all dogs, ran out of the bushes and full-on tackled Angelo to the ground. "Hey, boy! Why are you out here on your own?"

"He's not on his own," a voice said, and a man stepped out. He was tall, chiselled and wore a navy uniform. A navy hat rested on top of his messy blonde hair. Angelo's mouth was tugged into a big smile and tears threatened to roll down his face at the sight of him.

"Santo!" Angelo cheered, running to the man and hugging him.

"Hey, little man!" Santo smiled, picking him up. "Man, you're getting big. What have you been eating?"

"Food, mostly," Angelo answered. Santo grinned.

"Why, you little smart mouth," the navy warrant officer teased. "I'll teach you to mess with your big brother."

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! SAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHANTOHOHOHOHOHOHO!" Angelo howled, as fingers dug into his sides and tummy. " _BASTA, PER FAVORE_ (1)!"

"Angelo, is this guy your brother or something?" Logan asked. Angelo grew beet red now that he realized that Logan had seen what just happened in the last few seconds.

"Angelo, how could you not tell anyone about me?" Santo dramatically gasped, looking like Edvard Munch's The Scream. "You are a mean little dork, you know that?"

"Oh, he did, I've just never seen you before," Logan pointed out. Santo accepted that answer and put Angelo down.

"What a relief," Santo sighed. "For a moment there, I thought you were embarrassed by me."

"You're embarrassing me now!" Angelo yelped. "Logan saw the whole thing!" The redhead in question was trying his hardest not to laugh at the blushing Italian.

"I know you're ridiculously ticklish, your dog showed me ages ago," Logan clarified. Santo openly laughed, as Angelo turned red.

"You're not so bad, you know," Santo remarked, smiling at Logan. "You seem to be keeping him in line. You, Angelo, are a little wise guy and I'll have to train that out of you." Angelo gulped. Logan grinned.

"Oh, don't be so scared, Angelo, I'm sure Pepsi will be happy to play with you," Logan teased. That was all the dog needed to pounce on Angelo, tongue out and tail wagging. He howled with laughter as Santo held him still, allowing the dog to get a big mouthful of Angelo's tummy. Logan tried to get a good look at Angelo's six-pack, but was foiled by Pepsi, who was blocking his view.

"Come on, Angelo, you'll be fine with me, I promise," Santo taunted. "Come on, little guy. Let's go home." Angelo was dragged home by Santo, and Logan made a mental note to himself not to tease him the next time he saw him. The poor guy had enough to deal with without Logan being mean. He could only imagine what Santo would do when they got home.

* * *

The moment the brothers were behind closed doors, Angelo knew he had a snowball's chance in hell of getting away from his brother. He looked up at Santo fearfully, knowing he would be anything but nice when roughhousing. But Santo had other things on his mind. "Where's _Mamma_ (2), Angelo?" Santo asked, using the Italian word for mother.

" _Collezionare Mirella da scuola_ (3)," Angelo answered. " _Papà è al lavoro. Siamo solo tu, io e Pepsi_ (4)." Santo smiled.

"Good. That means nobody will stop me from messing with you as much as I want." He then pounced on Angelo, digging his fingers into his sides and counting his ribs one by one. The genius screamed with laughter and tried to get away, but he couldn't. Santo was too strong. Then the tickling stopped. Angelo thought that it was over, until he saw Santo drawing in a deep breath. He was done for.

"NO RASPBERRIES! NO RA-AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Angelo begged, before being taken over by hysteria. Santo playfully nibbled on Angelo's tummy for an agonizingly long time, before abandoning his upper body and setting his sights on his ankles and feet. Angelo's socks were ripped off and his toes played with, as Santo counted them slowly and claimed he lost count if Angelo wiggled them too much or laughed too loud. It was getting too much for Angelo to handle, and his laughter eventually turned silent. That was Santo's cue to stop and check on his dorky little brother.

"You OK?" Santo asked. "I didn't mean to go so hard on you."

"I'll be fine," Angelo sighed, gasping for air. "I've got other things to worry about."

"Like what?" Santo asked. "Is someone messing with you? I swear, I'll track that motherfucker down an-"

"It's bigger than a school bully, Santo," Angelo sighed. "Remember my old school?"

"The private school full of snobs?"

"Of course the private school full of snobs. I never went to any other school," Angelo told him. "It got shut down recently, and I just found out why." Angelo pulled up the article he had found about the now non-existent school, and the brothers read it in horror.

"This is seriously creepy," the elder of the two muttered.

"I know," Angelo said. "What if the next person's me?"

"Isn't that why you moved? To get away from your old school and your old town and lie low? You'll be fine so long as there isn't a trail for them to follow," Santo soothed.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right, and I'd never do that," the nerdy teen admitted. "Could we . . . maybe . . . watch a movie?"

"Would if I could, baby bro, but I have to go back to base in two hours. But I've got a good way of passing the time for you. How about you show me around here?" The brothers got their shoes (and the dog) and went to show Santo around. They got to the local primary school to surprise Mirella and their mother, who were just coming out of the school.

"Santo! It's Santo!" Mirella cheered. "Santo!" She rushed over and hugged him. Santo picked her up.

"My boys! Oh, thank God!" their mother sighed. "Santo, I was getting worried!"

"Mamma, I call you every day!" Santo groaned. Angelo and Mirella tried to hide their grins.

"It's not the same as seeing you in the flesh! Oh, come here!" The woman swept Santo into a hug and started rubbing his hair. Angelo snickered. Santo glared at him.

"Not a word," he grunted, blushing. He eventually broke away from the hug and took Angelo and Mirella with him.

"Where are you going?" their mother asked.

"I'm showing Santo around here!" Angelo called. "I'll be back later, I promise!" Before their mother could protest, her three children had vanished.

"These kids will be the death of me someday," she muttered.

* * *

Angelo showed Santo the parts of the town that he was in the most, such as his school, the park that he walked Pepsi in, and the only café he knew that allowed dogs. It was a favourite place for him and his sister to go to for sweet treats. Mirella was used to rubbing Pepsi's head with one hand and feeding herself with the other, so this was an ideal arrangement for a teenaged boy with a younger sister with a sweet tooth and a dog that howled when he was more than three inches away from him. Pepsi had serious separation anxiety when it came to Angelo. The four went into the café and ordered.

"A bowl of water for Pepsi, a chocolate milkshake for me, and what would you two like?" Angelo said.

"Red velvet muffin with chocolate chips in!" Mirella cheered.

"Apple pie, if you have any," Santo requested. "Maybe with some vanilla ice cream."

"Coming right up!" the manager told them, as she guided them to a table. Pepsi got his water first, and he lapped it up greedily. Then it was Mirella's muffin, but she didn't eat it immediately, like Pepsi. The five-year-old wanted to eat at the same time as her brothers. Then Angelo and Santo got their desserts, and the three finally ate.

"So, how is Willowdale treating you?" Santo asked. "Does anything ever happen other than someone getting a new kettle?"

"Santo!" Angelo spluttered. "It's actually not that bad. This place is pretty nice!"

"And the school here is so cool!" Mirella smiled, literally letting her curly black hair down. "I like it here! Me and my new friend want to have a sleepover soon and Mum and Dad said yes!"

"Hold on, squirt. Are you going to their house or are they going to ours?" Angelo asked. "I can only handle one five year old girl in the house at a time."

"I'm going to go to Joanne's house," Mirella told them. "We'll be sharing her room. Then she'll come to our house, and share my room."

"Does she know that we have a dog?" Angelo asked.

"How is this important?" Santo asked.

"Not everyone likes dogs," Angelo said simply. "Pepsi might freak her out." Pepsi looked up at the sound of his name.

"He's a hyperactive, oversized ball of golden fur," Santo told him. "You're getting worried over nothing."

"Mum took Pepsi to school and Joanne gave him belly rubs! She thinks he's cute!" Mirella smiled. Angelo breathed a sigh of relief. Santo snickered.

"You worry way too much," the eldest child stated, ruffling his hair. "Now you hold still while I check on your ribs." The poking and prodding made Angelo giggle, and by extension, so did his siblings. Pepsi tried to go to sleep. His family was insane and even he knew it. The tickling soon became wrestling and Santo had Angelo in a chokehold. The genius was rapidly turning red from lack of oxygen and gasped for air like a fish out of water. Once he almost stopped struggling, Santo knew he had to cease. "Angelo, you OK?"

"I've . . . had worse," he wheezed. Santo grinned, and nudged Angelo's milkshake towards him. "Thanks." The three siblings went back to having a good time, talking and laughing . . . and that was when Maxwell came in, accompanied by his parents. Maxwell was holding a tissue to his nose. He'd given himself a nosebleed when he ran into the wall.

"Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry that happened to you. What a terrible bit of bad luck," Maxwell's mother cooed. "Tell you what, I'll get you whatever you want to make you feel better."

"Why not? It's Friday!" his father agreed.

"Thank you, Mum and Dad," Maxwell sniffled, milking the performance for all he was worth for the sake of more sweet treats. Then he saw Angelo, and he brightened up. Here was a chance to mess with Angelo in public and get away with it, while also looking like they were friends. "Angelo, good to see you!" he smiled. "Hey, Mum, Dad, this is the kid I was telling you about! Angelo Riva, the inventor kid in my school!" Santo and Mirella were rightfully confused about the situation. They'd never seen this guy before in their lives. Maxwell's mother was embarrassingly sweet towards the town genius. It was always good to put a name to the face of the person you had to impress, after all. That was what she had learned to do.

"Oh, this is my son's friend!" she cooed, placing a hand in front of the teen for him to shake. Angelo shook it, not knowing what else to do. "Oh, I've heard so much about you!" Truthfully, she hadn't heard anything more than what she could find on the internet, but flattery was always a good way to go. Mr Norwood-Sykes, on the other hand, kept things polite, but formal.

"Hello, there, Angelo. Pleasure to meet you," he greeted, sticking out a hand to shake. Angelo took it. It was firm and actually hurt a little after he'd let go. This handshake had been perfected after lots of experience as a businessman.

"Pleasure to meet you too," Angelo forced himself to say, smiling out of habit. It was a habit he'd learned in private school, smiling and shaking hands. He had never found it easy to say no in situations like this. The social pressure was too much for him and he would cave every single time.

"Oh, we won't be long, I just want to ask you a few questions," Mrs Norwood-Sykes smiled. "So, how is Maxwell treated in school? From what I hear, he's quite the social butterfly with lots of friends and very popular." Maxwell quietly freaked out. This, like all his other schemes involving Angelo, was not going to plan. Now his mother was telling Angelo all the little lies that he'd told her.

"I've noticed that some kids call him 'Moneybags' for some reason," Angelo reported. Maxwell's mother giggled.

"Oh, so they've found out, have they?" she remarked, giggling. "Well, I suppose it's not easy hiding a mansion in a small town like this." Angelo choked on his milkshake.

Angelo's eyes looked like they were about to explode out of his head. "Excuse me?"

Maxwell's father chuckled. "Didn't you know what sort of living conditions Maxwell had? This boy is the future of Norwood Furniture, taking over where his father and uncles left off!" Mr Norwood-Sykes seemed proud of his son as he punched his shoulder in an apparently friendly manner and smiling widely. Maxwell looked uncomfortable and embarrassed.

"No, he never told me," Angelo said. "We don't talk all that much, and I thought he was a normal kid, like everyone else." Maxwell gulped. Now his parents knew that he wasn't actually good friends with Angelo and he would be in so much trouble. He had one job; to get Angelo to like him so he looked good to his parents, and he hadn't done it.

"Oh," Maxwell's father sighed, glaring at his son. Oh, Maxwell was for it now. The blond nerd knew that he would be getting an earful the moment he got home. His mother sported a similar look on her face. Angelo could tell that the guy was screwed, and decided to wrap it up right there and then.

"I don't mean to sound rude, madam, but are you done with asking me questions?" Angelo asked. He looked suitably nervous, so the rich couple decided to stop the interrogation.

"Yes, that will be all. Thank you, Angelo," Mrs Norwood-Sykes replied, getting up and taking her husband and son with her. Maxwell had just enough time to grab his miniature cake before being taken away by his incensed parents. He had a lot of explaining to do once he was inside the four walls of his parents' mansion. Angelo, Santo and Mirella watched as the boy was taken away.

"Was that a friend of yours, Angelo?" Santo asked.

"It's weird. He's nice sometimes, but other times, he's just plain mean to me," Angelo explained. "Something just seems . . . off."

"Is he going to come over?" Mirella asked. "I don't like him."

"I doubt it," Angelo replied. Santo, becoming rather bored, checked his watch, and jumped.

"I have to go! I'm needed back at base!" Santo babbled, scrambling to get out. Angelo and Mirella hugged him. "Bye, you two! I'll miss you!"

"Bye," Mirella sniffled. Angelo was teary-eyed himself.

"I'll miss you," the genius admitted. Santo ruffled his hair.

"I'll miss you too," Santo told him, as they walked home to where his pickup truck was. Santo got in, turned the key in the ignition and drove away. Mirella was close to tears.

"I don't want Santo to go," Mirella whimpered.

"Neither do I, but he has to go because he works far away in the navy," Angelo explained. "And it's hard to be away from him for so long, but we'll have to live with it. Mum, Dad and I miss him too."

"OK," Mirella sighed, as they went inside.

"You two got to spend some time with Santo, right?" Bonaventura asked, when they came home. Both of them nodded. "Oh, good. I thought I was the only one."

"Wait, what? We thought you were the only one to not see him today!" Angelo exclaimed.

"He found me at the university and surprised me," the patriarch of the house explained. Angelo's jaw dropped. "So, what did you do when he was with you?"

"We went to a café and got desserts and caught up," Angelo said. "It's not much, but it was nice."

"When it's family, it's never not much," Bonaventura replied. Angelo nodded, a tear in his eye.

"OK. Thanks, Dad," Angelo sniffed, as he went to look for some source of comfort. Pepsi seemed to know that he was sad and tried to make him feel better. "Hey, Pepsi." Pepsi snuggled close to him, licking his face. Angelo smiled. "I can never be sad around you, can I?" Without warning, Pepsi jumped on him, giving him long ticklish licks that made him scream with laughter. Angelo's parents listened to the hysterical laughter coming from their second son's room.

"You know, I think he's going to be OK," Bonaventura muttered.

"I agree," Roselle replied.

* * *

At home, Maxwell was being chewed out by his parents, who were vexed that he was barely an acquaintance to the teenage robotics expert. "Maxwell, you told us that you were best friends!" his father snapped angrily. "This kid barely knows you!"

"I'm working on it, all right?" Maxwell snapped back. "It's not my fault the guy won't go near me! He thinks I'm mean and all his new friends don't like me!"

"If he thinks you're mean, then be nicer to him! What's so hard about that? If you're mean to him, he might leave, and he needs to be here until the end of the semester if we can claim for more money for the school!" His mother was astounded at her son's lack of knowledge about social interaction, and stormed off in a huff to watch some more reality TV and calm her nerves.

"So that's why you want him around! You'll use him to make the school rich!" Maxwell snapped. He realized with a start that his parents didn't even care that Angelo was attending the town secondary school: he was just their clever little piggy bank.

"How did you guess?" the patriarch of the Norwood-Sykes household sarcastically remarked. "The council will pay more if they think we need more. And with him, we can have much, _much_ more." Suddenly, Maxwell's father's phone rang and he picked up immediately. "Hello? No, this isn't a bad time. Oh, you want to know what special offers we have on armchairs? Well . . . " The man walked away with the phone to talk somewhere quieter. Now he was alone, Maxwell went to the kitchen to raid the pantry of any and all cookies. His parents wouldn't notice. The only person who ate from there was him.

 _Chocolate chip cookies always make me feel better after a bad day,_ Maxwell thought as he dreamed up plots to hurt Angelo or at least mess with him while stuffing his face. A few hours later, the only things in his head were actual dreams as he fell asleep, a stomach full of cookies and also some cake.

* * *

Translations

1: NO MORE, PLEASE! Italian.

2: Mom/Mum. Italian.

3: Collecting Mirella from school. Italian.

4: Dad's at work. It's just you, me and Pepsi. Italian.


	12. Discoveries and confessions

_Saturday, May 4th_

* * *

Maxwell woke up on Saturday hopping mad about Angelo. He'd just remembered how the school genius had screwed him over, badmouthed him in front of his parents, and later got away with it. Naturally, he couldn't stand for such a thing. He went to his trusty old laptop and fired it up to search for more dirt on Angelo. He found all the articles he'd seen the first time, but when he scrolled down to the list Google compiled called the 'people also searched for . . . ' section, he found a very interesting list.

_angelo riva net worth_

_angelo riva interview_

_angelo riva completed inventions_

_angelo riva security concerns_

_angelo riva junior science convention_

Now Maxwell was interested. This was some seriously good information he had, better than anything he'd found in class. Why hadn't he gone to this section before? This was a treasure trove of information. He clicked on the link about Angelo's net worth, expecting it to be a few thousand. He was not expecting Angelo Riva, of all people, to be worth a cool £32 million at least, and that amount was only going to increase. He clicked on the first article he saw and read it, refusing to let himself skip even a character of the article.

* * *

**CHILD GENIUS CLOSES MILLION POUND DEAL WITH MAJOR CAR FIRM**

_Child genius Angelo Riva has become the youngest person in history to close a deal with Momentum at just 10 years old concerning his design for a car engine._

_It runs on a combination of water and solar power. This is an utterly revolutionary design that has never been done before, and it will help cut global carbon dioxide levels by rapidly decreasing the levels of oil that are extracted from the earth and used to power cars. Scientists studying the effects of climate change have agreed that this is the best solution to solving the carbon dioxide emission problem in the transportation sector._

_The owner of Momentum, the major car firm that bought Riva's engine patent told us: "This is a great day for Momentum, a great day for Angelo Riva and a great day for the environment. We at Momentum are immensely proud to be a part of reversing climate change."_

_Angelo Riva's mother, Roselle Riva, said: "I'm so proud of my boy for designing such a car engine. He's going to change the world and he's not even an adult."_

_The agreement is that Momentum pays Angelo Riva a sum of £4 million per year plus 50% commission from any car that is bought from Momentum that uses his engine until his eventual death. When he dies, the invention patent belongs to Momentum, and they can sell it to whoever they choose. However, if anything happens to Momentum that causes it to dissolve, the patent is owned by Angelo Riva, who can sell it to whoever he chooses. Since Riva is only 10, the money is in a trust fund for him to access once he turns 18._

* * *

Maxwell's jaw was scraping the duvet of his bed. This guy was worth more than his family's entire business even if his specially designed car was never sold to anyone, and this was being done while he, Maxwell Norwood-Sykes, was watching cartoons at home and popping zits. Just when he was about to get up and use the bathroom, he got a phone call from Reuben. Great. First he learned that he was going to classes with a kid rich enough to buy the entire town, and now he had to deal with a phone call from a dumb, fat loser that he only pretended to be friends with so he wasn't on his own. Also because Reuben was the only one dumb enough to listen to him without getting bored, making fun of him or criticizing him. Reuben thought that Maxwell was eventually going to rule the school because people would eventually realize that money was power, and defended him to the end. If the Red Bandanas (or anyone else that they had taunted) went to beat them up after school for running their mouths, Maxwell could let Reuben take both of their beatings because he was slower and while he got beaten up, Maxwell could get away and retreat to the safety of his parent's mansion. It was a perfect arrangement, as far as Maxwell was concerned, anyway. But as far as Reuben knew, Maxwell's strategy of splitting up was just a very bad evasive manoeuvres tactic that always seemed to leave him with the short end of the stick.

But over to the phone call.

"Hello, Reuben," Maxwell sighed. "What is it?" He and Reuben had given up niceties a long time ago.

"You'll never guess what I found out!" Reuben chirped excitedly. "Angelo's on a hit list!"

"What?!" For once, Maxwell was interested in what Reuben had to say. "What hit list?"

"He's on a hit list full of smart kids!" Reuben babbled. "You need to see it! The look on his face is going to be priceless once we tell everyone!"

"Hold on, Reuben," Maxwell ordered. "We're always telling people stuff about Angelo, and it's become a joke across the whole school. How about we keep this to ourselves?"

"What? Why?"

"You'll find out eventually, Reuben, don't you worry about it. I know just what to do with this juicy bit of information." Maxwell had to force down an evil laugh as he hung up the phone. He clicked on the link about Angelo's so-called 'security concerns' and the first suggestion was a video. He put on headphones, plugged them into his laptop and opened up the video. It was titled _**10 Kids Who Are Too Smart For Their Own Good.**_ It was a group of ten child geniuses around the world that had to go into hiding after a gang called the New Wave of Intellect started picking off prodigies to participate in their plotting. They were, going from least likely to most likely to be kidnapped according to police:

  1. Lan Jiang (Chinese boy)
  2. Soo-Jin Lee (Korean girl)
  3. Rudo Arense (Shona girl)
  4. Eric Nussbaum (German boy)
  5. Kavi Sharma (Indian boy)
  6. Andrea Horn (English girl)
  7. Hanna Halvorsen (Norwegian girl)
  8. Angelo Riva (Italian boy)
  9. Ebony Augustine (French girl)
  10. Axel Vang (Danish boy)



Maxwell read the list over and over, not believing his eyes. Angelo Riva was only staying here so he could lie low for a while! This was the biggest break he'd had about the kid in years! He was so happy, he got changed and went for a walk. Maxwell never usually went on walks because he preferred staying inside where he could be catered to and treated like the most important person in the world, but he did so just this once. It felt good to walk around the town he grew up in when he knew that the person he hated the most, that inventor genius Angelo Riva, was here because of a shoddy person protection scheme that clearly didn't work since even the teachers knew he was a genius now. Maxwell was confident that he wouldn't be kidnapped from his own home. Angelo couldn't have such confidence. So it was with a smug sense of superiority that Maxwell went for a leisurely stroll around town. He wanted to get out of the house that his parents lazed around in, refusing to talk to their only child as they absorbed themselves in work documents and trashy reality TV shows respectively. He was beginning to wonder why he didn't go on walks more often when he bumped into Angelo and Logan going the same way, with a dog he didn't recognize or remember walking next to them on a leash. "Oh. Hey, Maxwell," Angelo sighed.

"Oh, if it isn't the town genius," Maxwell mocked. "Shouldn't you be doing something nerdy right about now?"

"No; should you?" Angelo asked. Logan laughed.

"Can it, Fanta," Maxwell snapped. Angelo took offence to that.

"Do you have to be so mean to him? He didn't do anything!" Angelo defended. Logan fell in love with him even more.

"Stop acting like you're in charge around here, Angelo," Maxwell snapped. "You're getting to be really annoying. I don't know how anyone stands you." Angelo was caught off-guard.

"How do I act like I'm in charge?" Angelo asked.

"You always have lots of people around you and they ask you loads of questions all the time, and you're just smiling and answering them and taking up too much space! And the worst part is you outright saying that you will submit the worst Invention Convention plan ever!" Maxwell told him. "You're ruining everything! I liked this school the way it was before you got here!" Logan secretly begged to differ. This school had never been so interesting before Angelo, and without him, it would be as bland as ever, maybe even worse.

"It's not my fault that people want to talk to me and it would be rude not to answer their questions. And I don't want to submit anything to this Invention Convention because if there's no choice in the matter and I have to submit something, then I'll make sure that I get myself disqualified so I never have to do something like this again. I want to know that I have a choice in whether or not I enter any competition," Angelo replied.

"Aww, is that your pathetic little excuse? Better luck next time, robot boy," the blond bully snickered. Pepsi barked, and Maxwell got scared. "Uhh, why's he doing that?"

"Pepsi, it's fine," Angelo told him, but Pepsi wasn't listening. He was focused on the boy who was rude to his master and his master's friend, and the Golden Retriever barked as much and as loud as he wanted to.

"Pepsi? That's the dog's stupid name?" Maxwell laughed, as he walked away. Pepsi trotted in front of him and tripped him up. Maxwell fell flat on his face, and Angelo tried to help him up.

"Are you OK?" Angelo asked.

"Yes! I'm fine! Just keep your stupid dog away from me!" Maxwell yelled, as he walked away, embarrassed. He wasn't going to be taking any walks for a while. He left Angelo, Logan and Pepsi very confused.

"Wow, he's not even pretending to be nice now," Angelo commented. "There goes the whole 'let's be friends and forget about the past' thing, I suppose."

"I know, right? Anyway, thanks for sticking up for me, Angelo," Logan said, smiling. Angelo was still a little shell shocked after their most recent Maxwell encounter. "Are you OK?" Pepsi became worried and started walking around them in circles, trying to get their attention. He'd been walking in circles around them for a while before Angelo finally noticed him.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Pepsi, what is it?" Angelo asked, taking a step forward . . . and brought both him and Logan crashing to the floor. He'd tangled their legs up with his leash. "OW!"

"This is awkward," Logan muttered. The two started struggling to get out of the bonds made by the leash while Pepsi pretended it was nothing to do with him. Such close contact with Logan made Angelo blush. Even when they sat next to each other in class, they weren't this close. "Now, why are you blushing so much? With a red face like that, you'd think you had a crush! Well, who's the lucky girl?" Angelo was positively scarlet at that point.

"It's not a girl. It's . . . it's . . ."

"Well, who is it?" Logan was getting impatient.

"It's you! I have a crush on you! There, I said it!" Angelo blurted out. Both of them were shocked into silence.

"You . . . have a crush on me?" Logan couldn't believe it.

"It's fine. I get it. You're straight. If this bothers you, I can leave you alone. You won't ever have to see me again, except for class and I-" He was cut off by a kiss to the cheek.

"I don't think you're just a friend," Logan replied. "And I don't want to only see you in class. Class is boring and not long enough for what I have in mind."

"Fair point," Angelo admitted. And the two laughed, relieved. They were out of the friendzone. Then Angelo got a phone call. "Hello?"

"Angelo, I need you to come home," Angelo's mother said. "Me and your father will be going to take our cars to the mechanics to get them checked over. MOT stuff. We'll be gone for at least an hour and it's about lunchtime. You need to make Mirella lunch while we're out. Can you manage?"

"Yes, Mamma," Angelo replied.

"Good boy. Thank you, Angelo." The phone went dead.

"That was my mother. Her and my dad are taking their cars to get them checked over, so I have to look after my little sister while they're gone. Wanna hang out at my place for a while?" Logan felt his head spin. He got to hang out at Angelo's house.

"I . . . er . . . yeah. Yeah, let's go." The two walked over to Angelo's house, which wasn't far. It never seemed to be far away in such a small town. Angelo pulled out a key from his trouser pocket, put it in the lock, turned it and went inside.

The most astounding thing about the house, in Logan's opinion, was how normal it looked. It seemed bigger on the inside than the outside, and it was nicely furnished. The house seemed to be painted in neutral blue and green colours, or at least, the ground floor was. Logan had no idea what it was like upstairs, but he could hear giggling and Pepsi barking. He kept looking around, his bright blue eyes darting from one thing to the other. Angelo giggled.

"You look like you're expecting a robot to come flying in through the window or out of the sofa," Angelo remarked, with an eyebrow raised and a small smirk on his face.

"Well, I'm in the house of a teenage robotics genius, so I guess that could happen," Logan muttered. Angelo outright laughed in his face.

"Actually, you've already in the same room as one of my inventions," Angelo replied, as he fiddled with a watch on his wrist. "The name is MAIA, by the way."

"Who's Maia? Is she your little sister?" Logan asked.

"No, my little sister's called Mirella. She's upstairs with Pepsi. MAIA is the acronym for my helper. It stands for My Artificially Intelligent Assistant," Angelo explained, as he fiddled with the settings. Like something out of a movie, the watch face flipped over to reveal a more technological touchscreen and an emoji that looked like a theatre mask was projected upwards. He'd created a watch that could project a hologram.

"MAIA, I'd like you to meet Logan." The hologram actually turned its face to look at Logan, who froze like a deer in headlights. "Hey, don't be scared, Logan, you'll be fine. MAIA's a disembodied assistant inside of a watch. No way you can get bitten or anything."

"Uh . . . hi, MAIA."

"Hello, Logan." The robot spoke to Logan with a voice that didn't sound feminine or masculine. "I am MAIA, formally known as My Artificially Intelligent Assistant, and I assist Angelo Riva with anything he needs."

"Like what?" Logan asked.

"I have helped Angelo with inventions such as one he has named "school project", and spends on average 4.5 hours a day working on it," MAIA reported. Logan's face suddenly bore a mischievous look. Maybe this was his submission for the dreaded Invention Convention.

"MAIA, don't tell Logan about the school project. I want it to be a surprise," Angelo hurriedly warned. Logan knew to respect the boundaries Angelo put up, but he wanted to know what it was so badly. Everyone wanted to know. But going through his stuff was mean. He wasn't going to look like a snoop in front of Angelo, of all people. "MAIA's the closest I have to JARVIS, but still needs some work."

"If MAIA's supposed to be like JARVIS, are you supposed to be like Tony Stark?" Logan joked.

"I'd like to be," Angelo said, going through MAIA's settings and fiddling with them. "That would be cool. MAIA, out of curiosity, how much of the school project is complete?"

"Your school project is estimated to be 40% complete, Angelo," MAIA stated.

"40% complete already? We only heard about the Invention Convention on Tuesday, and it's Saturday!"

"I like to be ahead of schedule," Angelo replied. "Once I'm finished, I'll never be allowed to submit inventions for the school Invention Convention again!"

"Maybe I should think of something to invent just so I don't get detention," Logan muttered. "I have no idea what to submit. What do you think would be cool?"

"Rocket boosters inside your shoes?" Angelo suggested. Logan glared at him.

"Something that I wouldn't need your level of experience to pull off," Logan clarified. Angelo blushed.

"Yeah . . . fair point. Maybe you should do what I do and prank people while telling the teachers that it's to prevent people from messing with you. Like . . . a bag that sprays whipped cream in someone's face when they try to open it as a way of deterring bag thieves!"

"Now that's right up my alley!"

"Or joke pens that explode when you try to use them so your hands are covered in ink!"

"Angelo, you genius! I'll go find some whipped cream and a couple of pens!" Logan cheered.

"But before that, you'll need to find some paper and pens to plan everything out," Angelo advised. "You can't dive into this blind! Plan this shit out!"

"Fine," Logan huffed. "Any more ideas?"

"Not right now. I'll let you know if I think of any more," Angelo promised, as he went to rip a blank page out of his exercise book and found a pen for Logan. He was about to listen to a TED talk on his phone before he heard a complaint from the disgruntled redhead.

"This pen doesn't work!" Logan muttered. "How am I going to plan anything now?"

"You pen's not working?"

"No." Angelo tore a corner off the paper.

"How about you prove it by writing down your number?" he suggested. Logan blushed, but he decided to humour the genius and tried to write his number down. Unbelievably, it worked. He wrote down his number and, blushing, handed it to Angelo, who grinned and tucked the corner of the paper into his phone case. "Well, that's one way of knowing whether or not the pen works," Angelo grinned. Logan blushed harder, and Angelo kissed him on the forehead before walking away. He had lunch to make for a picky little sister.

He washed his hands in the bathroom, dried them and went to start slicing potatoes to make hasselback potatoes. In every slice, he stuffed a slice of cheese into it and sprinkled some herbs on top. He then drizzled some olive oil on top of the potatoes and put them in the oven. Suddenly, it occurred to Angelo that he should check on Mirella. She had been awfully quiet for a while now and he should check on her to see if she was OK. He crept upstairs and knocked on her door. "Not now!" Mirella snapped. "Pepsi, hold still!" Pepsi barked, and soon Angelo was met by the sight of a Golden Retriever running out of Mirella's room wearing a pink feather boa around his neck. Mirella met him at the door, annoyed.

"You made him run away!" Mirella accused.

"All I did was knock on the door!" Angelo pointed out. "I didn't even say anything!"

Mirella pouted. "What do you want?"

"I was going to tell you that I made you hasselback potatoes," Angelo said. Mirella hugged him.

"Are they ready yet?" she asked.

"They're still in the oven," Angelo told her. "Oh, and I have to tell you-" Mirella didn't stick around to hear it and raced downstairs to watch the potatoes bake, only to be met by Logan looking for Angelo. Both of them screamed with shock.

"Angelo, who is this?" Mirella shrieked.

"Mirella, I was going to tell you about him. This is Logan, and I know him from school," Angelo introduced. "Logan, this is Mirella, my kid sister." Mirella seemed uneasy around Logan, and nobody could blame her. Logan was a stranger in her home.

"Uhh, OK," she said quickly, as she ran to get Pepsi.

"Did I do anything weird?" Logan asked.

"She just doesn't know you," Angelo reassured. "Mirella will warm up to you in time." Logan nodded and hugged Angelo. The inventor jumped with surprise, but ultimately returned the hug. Logan dragged them to the sofa, where they snuggled and watched TV. Neither wanted to take it any further, and they were happy snuggling on the sofa, watching a true crime show about some love triangle turned deadly. Halfway through the show, Angelo snuggled Logan closer, making the redhead smile widely. This was nothing short of a dream. Then a timer went off in the kitchen. Lunch was ready. Mirella was already trying to get plates out of the cupboard when Angelo showed up.

"Can you get me that little potato there?" Mirella asked, pointing at one of the smaller potatoes. Angelo put it on a plate for her, which she took and ate in the front room while watching cartoons on the family computer. Angelo made another two plates for himself and Logan, leaving the last two for his parents to warm up when they got home. They all ate in the front room, nobody talking to each other. Logan couldn't think of a way to talk to Angelo without revealing to Mirella that they were dating, and Angelo conveniently had his mouth full most of the time, so that idea was a nonstarter. Mirella was still watching the cartoon while eating, so she couldn't talk to her. So he would have to wait until he finished eating. The couple finished around the same time, and went to watch TV. They were greeted by Pepsi, who barked happily while still wearing the feather boa. Angelo unwrapped the feather boa from his neck and went back to watching TV, except this time he was snuggling a boy and a dog. It was two boys and a dog watching TV. Throughout the TV, Logan gave Angelo little kisses along his neck, and Angelo didn't resist once. He loved how Angelo just . . . melted into his arms. Then there was a knock at the door, and they scrambled apart.

"My parents are here!" Angelo hissed. "What do we do?"

"Let me handle it," Logan shushed, grabbing a book. By the time Angelo's parents came in, it looked like Angelo was tutoring Logan in science.

"Angelo, Mirella!" Roselle called, going to see where her children were. "Angelo, is this a friend of yours?"

"Hello, Mr and Mrs Riva," Logan greeted, as he pretended to read a section about chemical reactions.

"I don't mean to be rude, but why are you here?" Bonaventura asked.

"Angelo was tutoring me in science," Logan explained. It astounded Angelo how good Logan was at lying. His parents nodded.

"Did you leave any food for us?" Bonaventura asked.

"Yeah, it's still in the oven at a lower temperature. If it isn't warm enough, microwave it," Angelo instructed. And with that, they were off the hook.

"How did you do that?" Angelo asked.

"It's easy when you relax," Logan explained. "You worry too much. Anyway, I've got to go. Bye!"

"Bye," Angelo said, disappointed that Logan couldn't stay longer. He decided to work on his project for the Invention Convention in the meantime, but he couldn't concentrate. More true crime stories it was then.

* * *

At home, Logan was quietly celebrating that he got his crush's number and was able to see the coolest invention of all time. He decided to commemorate the moment with his favourite snack: shortbread cookies. He got three out of the cupboard and was about to eat one when he heard a voice.

"Logan," it sang. "Logan? Are those shortbread cookies? You seem to have two too many."

"Caleb, I am not five years old any more," Logan told him, rolling his eyes. "Go get your own."

"You asked for this," Caleb grinned, as he picked Logan up by the ankles and shook him down. "Hand the snacks over before I am forced to use methods of torture!"

"Go eat a dick!" Logan snapped.

"Torture it is, then," Caleb sighed, as his fingers danced over Logan's ribs. "If you're having shortbread as a snack, then I'm having ribs for lunch." He stuck his fingers into the gaps and spent his sweet time counting them.

"Gahahahahahaha! No more! Please!" Logan pleaded, blushing madly. "Get off me!"

"Let me think . . . nah," Caleb denied, as he tortured Logan. His screams of laughter echoed throughout the house. It was adorable how he struggled to get away. Logan was embarrassed, and submitted to his brother.

"Fine, take them," he mumbled.

"Good little Logan," Caleb smiled, ruffling Logan's hair as he went to his room to play video games. Logan went to look for another way to spend his time. He couldn't think of anything to do, and he had no homework, so he started drawing Angelo's face. It felt like it only lasted a minute.

It was actually two hours.

He was distracted by the sound of his phone ringing. The number wasn't listed in his contacts. "Hello?" he asked.

"Hey, Logan, is that you?" Angelo asked.

"Angelo!" Logan perked up immediately after hearing Angelo's voice. "Yes, it's me!"

"Thank imaginary God for that. For a moment, I thought I got the wrong number."

"Why would you think you got the wrong number?"

"It wouldn't be the first time."

"Seriously? That sucks!" There was silence for a while, before Logan decided to fill it with a question.

"Angelo, when everyone first found out that you're a genius, you told me in private that you had to leave because of security concerns. What kind of security concerns?" Logan asked.

"Kids were getting kidnapped from their schools, kids like me. The old private school I went to got shut down because the really rich parents stopped giving donations and people started leaving. There wasn't enough money for the school to stay open and it closed down this year. The worst part is nobody is telling me anything," Angelo explained. "Not the police, not my parents, nothing. Please, don't tell anyone. I don't want to be kidnapped." Logan agreed to keep his mouth shut.

"I wouldn't want you to come to any harm," Logan reassured. "Nobody here does, except for Maxwell and Reuben and the rest of the snobby nerds in this school, and that's barely anything."

"Thank you. Oh, and can we keep this relationship secret? I don't want to be bullied for liking you," Angelo asked, embarrassed.

"You're right. That would be a good idea," Logan agreed. "Bye." And then he hung up.


	13. Breakthroughs

_Time skip: from Saturday, May 4th to Tuesday, May 7th_

* * *

Maxwell no longer seethed with jealousy and anger when he looked at Angelo hanging around with lots of other students, but smirked instead. He wasn't jealous of a boy with the threat of kidnapping and possible death hanging over his head. The blond bully's unusual good mood was noticed by Reuben, who asked about it.

"Why are you so happy, Maxwell?" the broad brunette asked.

"I think I have a way to get rid of Angelo forever," Maxwell snickered. Reuben felt uneasy. He wasn't sure if he wanted to help Maxwell with this. Everything about it seemed sinister and wrong, and although this Angelo Riva guy didn't seem too good, there was no way he deserved this. But the feeling left him pretty soon. Maxwell would never do anything like that if it meant he would be in trouble. He liked keeping his hands clean.

"What are you going to do?" Reuben eagerly asked. Maxwell's sunny disposition vanished.

"None of your business, fatso. I need to do this on my own," Maxwell snapped, shooing Reuben away. Maxwell had never called him fatso before, but maybe it was his own fault. He had been too nosy and Maxwell wasn't comfortable with it. The brunette heard giggling coming from behind him.

"Wow, even his friend calls him fat! How much of a loser is he?" a blonde girl giggled to a gaggle of friends, who snickered. Reuben sighed. Maxwell said that them telling everyone new stuff about Angelo was a joke. Maybe their friendship was a joke, too, something that people giggled about in private. "Hey! Loser!" the blonde girl snapped. Reuben jumped. He'd been staring. "You'd better not be staring at me!" Reuben quickly waddled away. "Yeah, that's what I thought," the girl huffed, turning back to her friends to laugh about what a loser Reuben was.

Reuben went to his tutor room and sat next to Maxwell, who had recovered the same good mood he'd had earlier. "Sorry about that, Reuben. I'm still a little tired." Reuben accepted the apology, but he couldn't help but think that maybe the apology was fake. But he didn't have time to dwell on it before Angelo came in, with people eagerly asking questions and greeting him. Some girls were flirting with him. Maxwell felt the seed of jealousy germinating, but he uprooted it and tried to focus on something else. But it was hard when one person brought in so much noise and when that particular person happened to be so noticeable. He stood out in a crowd, that was certain. Angelo and Logan sat next to each other and started talking animatedly. The two laughed until they nearly cried. They seemed really happy. As far as Maxwell was concerned, something was up.

"All right, class, settle down so I can do the register," Miss Turrets ordered, and students started to settle down. "It's getting to that time when you should really be focusing on your inventions for the Invention Convention, so please get a plan finished right about now so you can start building an invention to submit." The class groaned, except for Maxwell and a select group of nerds. This select group was slowly becoming smaller as more teens defected to the majority of the population that liked Angelo and hated the abomination that was the Invention Convention.

"Why do we have to submit something to this Invention Convention when most students don't want to?" Angelo asked.

"I don't make the rules around here. One of the school's most generous sponsors thought it would be a good idea to promote the school's maths and science program by having this Invention Convention," Miss Turrets explained. Angelo sighed and got back to checking what homework assignments he still needed to do. Maxwell felt smug in the knowledge that Angelo would have to submit something, and even if he tried to fail the competition, he was probably so used to winning that he would accidentally win anyway. Angelo was a model student, so he probably didn't have the nerve to break the rules. He didn't even ask for homework extensions!

"Angelo's got a point. Barely anyone wants to do this stupid Invention Convention anyway!" a rebellious student yelled, and the class devolved into an argument between the unwilling majority and the willing minority. Miss Turrets was forced to stop proceedings with an emergency air horn. (Nobody knows where she got it from or why she had it with her.)

"SILENCE!" Miss Turrets yelled. "You will all be doing this Invention Convention, whether you like it or not!" The class settled down, muttering angrily.

"The only reason this even exists is so the school looks good," a girl muttered.

"Detention this lunchtime!" Miss Turrets snapped.

"Worth it," the girl muttered, as the bell rang for French class. Maxwell and Reuben would be with them, and they accompanied Logan and Angelo with taunts all the way.

"Hey, Angelo, do you always hang out with your boyfriend, or do you hang out with the girls once in a while?" Maxwell taunted.

"Maxwell, I don't know what Logan did or what I did to make it seem like we were dating, but I don't see how it affects you. Also, if you're like this to actual LGBTQ+ people, then no wonder so many of them haven't come out yet," Angelo replied. People laughed and whooped. They supported the genius a lot more than Maxwell or Angelo knew.

"Actually, for the record, I respect anyone of the LGBTQ+ community and would never try to bully or harass them," Maxwell sheepishly backtracked, but nobody was buying it. People huffed and left him alone. Before, Maxwell was just annoying, but now he was an outright horrible person.

"Um, OK, if you say so," Angelo hurriedly replied, as he sat down. They were confronted by their teacher, a stern French man called Monsieur Allard. He had a rule that everyone spoke in French while in his classroom or they would be given extra homework or a lunchtime detention. Whichever he felt like, really.

"Ah, hello, class," Monsieur Allard greeted. Then he saw Angelo and did a double take. "I have not seen you before. You must be new. I am Monsieur Allard. Are you the . . . gifted boy, by any chance?"

" _Non, monsieur, je ne suis pas le génie. Pourquoi demandez-vous?_ (1)" Angelo asked, in perfect French.

"How do you speak French?" Monsieur Allard asked. He had completely forgotten to speak French out of shock.

" _Ma mère m'a appris, monsieur_ (2)," Angelo answered. Maxwell and Reuben snickered. Monsieur Allard regained his confidence.

"And what job does your mother have that makes her an expert in the language of French?" Monsieur Allard asked, smugly. A few more kids giggled.

" _Ma mère est professeur de langues étrangères modernes, et le français est l'une des langues qu'elle enseigne, monsieur_ , (3)" Angelo answered. Monsieur Allard blushed profusely.

"You can help the other students," Monsieur Allard told him, not looking at Angelo out of embarrassment. The nerds were annoyed that Angelo had nothing to do, so they called for him to waste his time and generally run him ragged, so kids who actually needed help had no help.

"Excuse me, could someone explain to me what je m'appelle means?" Maxwell asked, as Monsieur Allard helped one of the Red Bandanas with sentence structure.

"It means 'my name is . . .', Maxwell," Angelo pointed out politely.

"Thank you, Angelo," Maxwell simpered.

"Angelo, how do you say 'thank you' in French?" Reuben asked.

"You say merci," Angelo explained. A quiet boy spoke up with a question.

"Excuse me, Angelo, but-"

"Shut up and show some respect! I got to him first! Can't you see I'm talking to Angelo? I need more help than you!" Maxwell snapped. "Angelo, could you tell me how to say school in French?"

"I'm not helping you with an attitude like that, Maxwell. How about you wait until Monsieur Allard is free?" Angelo said, as he helped the grateful boy. Maxwell was incensed.

"Is that what you're asking me to do?" Maxwell snapped.

"It's what I'm telling you to do," Angelo corrected. The class grinned. "Sorry about that. What did you need help with?" Maxwell was incensed. He was about to complain about Angelo, but then he was greeted by the livid face of Monsieur Allard.

" _Maxwell, sortez et attendez en dehors de la classe_ (4)!" the livid French teacher commanded. Maxwell had very little knowledge of French because he'd never really done homework and just put everything into Google Translate. The teachers never punished him for it, though.

"What?" Maxwell asked.

"Out!" Monsieur Allard roared. Stunned, Maxwell left the room. "My apologies, Angelo. This isn't normal behaviour. It won't be tolerated."

"It's more normal for Maxwell than you'd think," Angelo muttered, as he went back to helping students. Kids chattered about Maxwell's fall from grace. It was rare that a nerd like Maxwell ever did anything worthy of discipline from a teacher.

"Finally!"

"That should have happened a long time ago!"

"Go, Angelo!"

"How did this not happen sooner?"

"Karma is real after all!"

"Silence!" Monsieur Allard shouted. And with that, the lesson continued, as Maxwell stood outside and glowered at everything. He was eventually let inside again, but he didn't say anything to anyone. And a lot of other kids liked it that way.

* * *

At lunch that day, Maxwell gave Logan and Angelo a lot of hate, while people just tried to ignore him. "Oh, it seems I've interrupted a date. Never mind, lovebirds, don't stop on my account."

"Leave us alone," Logan huffed.

"I can't be that bad, can I?" Maxwell asked, pretending to be surprised. "Hey, you don't mind if I have that slice of pizza, will you? You don't look very hungry." He reached over and snatched the pizza, licking it so neither of them would ask for it back. He then took two big bites out of it, grinning as pizza sauce and cheese stained his face. It dripped onto his white shirt, too, but Maxwell either didn't notice or didn't care.

"Holy shit, are you always this much of a colossal dick or are you making a special effort today?" someone asked. It was a member of the Red Bandanas, flanked by three others for (Angelo assumed) moral support. "They told you to leave them alone, so go." Maxwell turned white as a sheet and almost ran out of the canteen. Reuben followed him out like an overweight shadow. Angelo and Logan smiled gratefully.

"Thank you," Angelo and Logan chimed.

"It's fine and he's a dick," he replied. "Hey, can we sit with you?"

"Sure. What are your names?" Angelo asked.

"Marcus," the kid who stood up for him introduced.

"Tyrell," a second kid told him.

"Elijah," a third kid told him.

"Jay," the fourth, smallest kid, replied, sheepish. He was the boy that held Angelo's arms while the other Red Bandanas picked on him in the old days.

"I've just got to ask, since you've been here longer than I have, has Maxwell always been that much of a colossal dick?" Angelo asked.

"Yeah," the Red Bandanas chorused.

"He was just a little annoying at the start, but after his parents got super rich from their family furniture business when he was about seven or eight, they moved into a big mansion and got housekeepers and maids to do everything and Maxwell became super big headed, buying the best things and flaunting it. I remember he was popular for a little while, but then everyone but Reuben and a few other kids got really sick of him," Logan clarified. "Then he started doing the whole "I'm smarter than all of you and that makes me better than you" thing that you keep seeing now."

"Was he always making jokes about same-sex couples?" Angelo asked. "He's been making comments about how Logan was my boyfriend all day."

"No worries; we'll deal with him. Once we're done, he'll never be able to walk over to you two again," Marcus promised, as he and the rest of the Red Bandanas moved to get up.

"No. I hate Maxwell, but I don't want you to hurt him or he'll hate me more," Angelo told him. "I just avoid him when I can and come up with comebacks when I can't. And you'll just get into trouble. For some reason, the teachers let him get away with stuff that they would never let anyone else do." The Red Bandanas sat down, respecting Angelo's wishes.

"You're nicer to him than we would be, and you don't even like him," Tyrell muttered. "Well, we've got to go. We're only allowed twenty minutes before we go back to detention."

"Bye, guys!" Angelo called.

"Bye!" the gang members called, as they left for a detention stint. Not long after that, Angelo and Logan went to go to the library, where they found a much larger crowd of students in the library. For some reason, it was much more popular now. Maybe it was the Riva effect. (The Riva effect was what Logan secretly called it when things changed around school because of something associated with Angelo Riva.)

"I'm sorry about Maxwell, you two," a girl replied. It was the same girl that claimed the only reason for the Invention Convention was to boost the school's reputation. "He's being such a douchebag. Everyone here is fine with boys dating boys and girls dating girls. And you two would make a cute couple."

"Yeah!" everyone cheered. After the chatter of how nobody cared who dated who, the conversation then turned to Maxwell, which it rarely did.

"He is so mean now!"

"He was always mean!"

"Yeah, but now he's even worse!"

"He was never this bad, though!"

"Thank you, guys! I wasn't expecting such support!" Angelo thanked.

"Yeesh, Angelo, how bad was your old school?" someone asked. Angelo chuckled, but he didn't seem to be finding anything funny.

"How long have you got?" Angelo asked. "The kids at my school were mostly rich kids. Out of ten kids, nine were super rich and the tenth one was there on some scholarship program like me."

"Were your parents not able to pay or were you just cheating the system?" a kid asked.

"That school cost £10,000 every year for just one student. My parents would have to get another mortgage to pay that," Angelo explained. "I went there from the age of 7 until I was thirteen because I graduated early."

"Why did you have to leave again?" a girl with a shaved head asked.

"Tax stuff, I think," Angelo lied. "Now I think about it, I'm not even sure if schools pay taxes!"

"It's crazy that a school that makes literally nine out of ten students pay £10,000 every year can't pay taxes!" Logan piped up. "They're rolling in it!"

"Actually, private schools don't pay taxes," a snide voice corrected. It was Maxwell. "Whatever troubles your private school had, it couldn't have been taxes. You know, Angelo, maybe you should ask your parents for some more information about your old school before you tell other people about it."

"That's the only thing they told me about it. It's all I have to go on," Angelo retorted. "They said the school had money trouble and I thought they meant something like taxes. It's more likely that some of the big sponsors refused to donate after the school did something to anger them. The only reason I'm saying barely anything is because I know barely anything." There was a general murmuring from the students, and Angelo could catch the tail ends of some conversations.

"Why did nobody tell him anything?"

"Something's up. I just know it."

"Holy shit, £10,000 a year?! No wonder it's mostly rich kids!" Maxwell had slunk out of the room by that time, searching his phone for more things about his rival - no, nemesis. He typed in 'Angelo Riva school' and found the same article Angelo had. He grinned as he bookmarked it, but a name he saw caught his eye. New Wave of Intellect. His interest piqued, he searched the organization up - and found a veritable goldmine of information. They had a website, apparently handed out leaflets in 'secure' places, but no locations listed. Their homepage said:

_**Reader/s, the world you and I live in is flawed. We are surrounded by poverty, fake news, injustice, corruption and the people being crushed under the iron boot of the upper class are ignorant to the life they could have had if none such cruelties existed. We need a wave of intellect to wash over the world and rid us of these plagues to humankind. We need to overthrow the corrupt ruling class and have a just, fair system in place. That is why we are here. We are the New Wave of Intellect that people need.** _

_**But we can't do it all alone. We rely on fresh new minds to help us create a fresh new world. These fresh minds are slowly being poisoned by the toxic society they have surrounded themselves in. If you care about saving the world from the cancer that is our modern-day society, please help us locate those fresh new minds.** _

Maxwell had a grin on his face so big, it made Lewis Carroll's Cheshire Cat seem melancholy in comparison. These people could come and take Angelo away in the middle of the night and never bring him back, and nobody would be any wiser. He looked at Angelo, but with wicked thoughts in his head. The kid he called 'robot boy' secretly had no idea what Maxwell was going to do. And he loved it.

* * *

That day, in Mr Carey's geography class, Angelo was passing last lesson's notes to Logan. Reuben noticed and enthusiastically ratted them out.

"Mr Carey! Sir! Mr Carey! Angelo's passing notes to Logan!" Reuben reported. Mr Carey acted on it.

"Angelo, you've been in my class long enough to know the rules. Read your note to the class," Mr Carey ordered.

"Camels are adapted to their desert habitat by having a hump full of fat which they use as an energy source to last long periods without food. They are also adapted to the desert by having large feet that give them a better balance while walking in the sand. Their three eyelids keeps the sand out of their eyes and their thin fur means they have a lower chance of overheating," Angelo droned.

"What does it actually say, Angelo?" Mr Carey asked.

"That is what it says, sir," Angelo replied. Maxwell snickered and, in a move that surprised everyone, got up to try to look at the scrap of paper himself.

"Obviously, he's lying, sir. I'll read what it really says," Maxwell simpered.

"Why don't you believe me?" Angelo asked.

"You look suspicious. Obviously I can't trust you with anything bigger than a paperclip," Maxwell snubbed. "Now hand over the paper so I can read what it says."

"You're right. I should give this to someone with authority over me," Angelo admitted. Maxwell's smile could have lit up the room, and he held out his hand for the piece of paper expectantly. Angelo took the piece of paper and handed it to Mr Carey. "Here you go, sir." The class went utterly wild.

"BURN!" students screamed. Logan was laughing. He had the coolest boyfriend ever. Mr Carey ignored it all and read the note silently.

"My apologies, Angelo, you were telling the truth. You can sit down now, and here's the note back," Mr Carey instructed, and Angelo sat down, ready to take more notes after he passed the last of last lesson's notes to Logan. Maxwell seethed again, but remembered the link he had about the New Wave of Intellect, and he smiled again. Angelo would be just fine, so long as he didn't mess the Invention Convention up. But who was Maxwell trying to fool, anyway? Angelo was such a nerd, he'd end up getting cold feet at the mere thought of seriously breaking the rules and then scramble to create a better submission at the last minute. With that, the blond nerdy bully relaxed at the thought of his parents' precious Invention Convention not being ruined by a brainy bad apple.

* * *

_Time skip: from geography class to the end of the school day_

Angelo and Logan walked home after getting out of class. "I have to go, sweetie. My parents want me to pick up my little sister from school," Angelo told him. Logan understood, but then he stopped in his tracks.

"Did you just call me sweetie?" Logan teased. Angelo flushed, and tried to get away.

"Holy shit, is that the time? I really have to go," Angelo blurted out, running away. The redhead watched him leave.

 _He's so cute when he's blushing,_ he thought.

Angelo regained his composure when he went to collect Mirella. "He's here! That's my brother!" Mirella babbled. The teacher dismissed her and she ran over to him. "Angelo, let's go home!"

"Why are you so eager to leave? Did you have a bad day at school, _dolcezza_ (5)?" Angelo asked.

"No, it was just boring," Mirella answered honestly. Angelo laughed as he picked his little sister up.

"Silly little kid," Angelo muttered as he carried Mirella home on his shoulders. When he opened the door, he found the only people in the house were him and Mirella. Pepsi was asleep, but stirred when he saw his master. He came over to lick Angelo, then Mirella. He tried to give Angelo a ball to throw for him, but then Mirella started giving him belly rubs and Pepsi wasn't going to give that up for the world. Angelo went to the kitchen to heat up two mini pizzas for him and his sister. He set a timer for Mirella to take them out and went down to the basement.

"MAIA, how much of my plan has been completed?" Angelo asked.

"You have completed 80% of your plan, Angelo," MAIA reported to Angelo.

"What's the next step in my plan?" Angelo asked.

"Installing the trigger mechanisms in the box is listed as the next step," the artificially intelligent system replied.

"Thank you, MAIA," Angelo thanked, as he got out his tools and started installing the mechanisms he would need to make sure his invention went down in the school's history as being the best and worst of all time. He made mistake after mistake, minor miscalculation after miscalculation and was about to give up for the day when he heard the timer go off. He abandoned his work and went to get his and Mirella's food. He scooped some dog food into a bowl for Pepsi and poured some water into a different bowl.

"Can I go walk Pepsi with you?" Mirella asked, big brown eyes looking up at Angelo pleadingly. "Please?" The genius couldn't resist.

"Sure; why not?" Angelo agreed. "But a little bit after lunch. We need to digest our food." Mirella nodded as she bit into a mini pepperoni pizza. Pepsi continued to stuff his face with dog kibble.

After lunch, Angelo rubbed his rock-hard abdomen and tried to think of his invention. He had a serious case of inventors' block and maybe the fresh air and change of scenery would help. He packed his emergency notepad and a pen along with the doggy essentials in case he had an epiphany about his invention submission and needed to write it down before he forgot it. Pepsi came over with his lead and tried to get Angelo to clip it to his collar. Angelo did so, scratching him under the chin knowing damn well that Pepsi loved that. Pepsi's leg started kicking, and just as the two got into a rhythm, Mirella walked over to them.

"Can we go now?" Mirella begged. "I'm done digesting everything, I swear!"

"Are you sure? I'd like to check," Angelo grinned, as he scooped Mirella up into a ticklish hug. Mirella squealed and giggled all through it, thrashing around hysterically. Yep, they were siblings, all right.

"Ahahahahahahahahaha!" Mirella giggled. "Nohohohohohohohoho! Please!"

"Just need to see if it's all digested like you said," Angelo insisted. "Yep, you were right! Let's go!" He let go of Mirella and went to get his shoes, who lay there, catching her breath. She eventually got up and ran over to her genius brother to poke him in the side. Angelo jumped about a foot in the air and squeaked. Mirella giggled, and grinned a grin far too sadistic to belong on a five-year-old's face.

"I'm gonna get you later," Mirella sang, confusing Angelo. He shrugged it off and went to the park, dog and girl in tow. He threw a ball and told Pepsi to go fetch. As Pepsi left to retrieve his precious ball, Mirella looked at Angelo and tried sneaking up on him, slowly but surely. Only problem: she was too little to take him down and Angelo thought she was giving him a surprise hug.

"Aww, Mirella, you want a hug?" Angelo teased, scooping Mirella up in a hug. "Sweetie pie, you don't need to sneak up on me for that!" Mirella was frustrated. Angelo wasn't taking her seriously.

"I want you to play with me and maybe . . . Pepsi can play with you too," Mirella replied innocently. Pepsi ran over and started licking and playfully nuzzling Angelo's torso. Angelo snickered and giggled hysterically, weakening already. Mirella smirked. The plan was working. Her brother was many things, and luckily for her, one of those things was insanely ticklish. How many other little girls got to hold something over their bigger brothers?

"PEPSI! MIRELLA! NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Angelo howled. "NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Mirella added an extra dose of humiliation and scribbled all over Angelo's ribs with her fingernails. The piercing shriek echoed throughout the park as the town genius laughed himself silly. Pepsi seemed to be increasing his intensity, too. Or at least, that was what it felt like. Eventually, he felt the world darken and eventually fade away into a silent abyss of blackness. Mirella freaked out. Angelo looked to be in bad shape.

"Angelo? Angelo! I'm sorry!" Mirella cried. Angelo's hand twitched and he groaned. Pepsi stopped and started snuggling Angelo's face. After a few terrifying minutes, Angelo tried to get up and Mirella hugged him so tightly.

"Wait, what's going on?" Angelo asked, as his world slowly came into focus. He heard crying and saw Mirella with tears running down her face. "Mirella? No, no, no, no, don't cry, I'm here." Angelo held Mirella as she cried. The terrified five-year-old girl thought she'd somehow knocked her brother out.

"I don't want to hurt you!" Mirella sobbed. Angelo did his best to explain.

"It's not your fault, sweetie, I was just a little tired after all the tickling and went to sleep, OK?" Angelo fibbed. Mirella still cried, and all Angelo could do was hold her until the tears eventually dried up. Mirella sniffled, and Angelo decided to take his little sister home. "Wanna go home and relax?"

"Am I in trouble?" Mirella asked tearfully.

"No, of course not," Angelo explained. "I know you didn't mean to. I'm not mad at you because you were only playing. If you don't want me to, I won't tell Mamma and Papa anything." Mirella hugged him.

"Thank you," Mirella sniffed. "Ice cream?"

"You know the rules with ice cream, Mirella. Only on Fridays as a special treat and I left my wallet at home," Angelo told his sister as he held her hand with one hand and Pepsi's lead with the other. "We have cookies at home if you want those."

"OK!" Mirella agreed, lightening up once they got home. Angelo let them in, and Mirella went straight to the stash of cookies. She took two for herself and got another two for Angelo. Just for good measure, she got Pepsi two treats.

"Aww, thank you, sweetie," Angelo cooed, eating one cookie and leaving the other in his place. "Mirella, make sure Pepsi doesn't eat this. I'm getting myself some juice." As he poured himself a glass of apple juice, he checked on the box of cookies. It was 3/4 empty. But then he became enthralled by the opening and shutting of the box. He had an idea of what to add to his invention. Wasting no time, Angelo raced to the basement, leaving his other cookie behind.

"Angelo, your cookie!" Mirella yelped.

"I changed my mind; you can have it," Angelo told her. Mirella smiled as she ate what would have been her brother's cookie.

Meanwhile, Angelo worked tirelessly on his invention. If he did it right, then he'd be able to finally finish his invention and use it to create more havoc in one day than any of the wannabe rebellious tough kids could in their entire lives. Calculations were scribbled on his notepad, double-checked, triple-checked, and then quadruple-checked for good measure. He then tested the invention, waiting for something to go wrong. Nothing went wrong. It was perfect. Now all he had to do was load it up with his supplies and hand it in with strict instructions not to open it until the day of the Invention Convention. Perfect. He grinned at the thought of his invention working perfectly at the Invention Convention as it was loaded with ammunition. This was going to be nothing short of legendary. Then again, lots of things were nothing short of legendary when he put his mind to it.

* * *

Translations

1: No, sir, I am not the genius. Why do you ask? French.

2: My mother taught me, sir. French.

3: My mother is a professor of modern foreign languages, and French is one of the languages that she teaches, sir. French.

4: Maxwell, get out and wait outside the classroom! French.

5: Sweetness. Italian.


	14. Fall from grace

_Time skip: from Tuesday, May 7th to Monday, May 20th, the day before the Invention Convention_

* * *

Angelo slunk into school early, dragging his feet. He didn't want to be there. Nobody did. The teachers had been droning on about the god-damned Invention Convention every single day and they were sick of it. They were all waiting for it to be over so the teachers would get off their backs. Miss Turrets, like the seasoned sadist she was, started the torture the moment she got herself settled.

"Students, as you may know, tomorrow is the Invention Convention, and anyone who has no submission will now be the proud recipient of detention after school for twenty consecutive days," Miss Turrets notified. Students groaned and the kids at the back booed. A death glare from Miss Turrets soon dispelled such rebellion.

"I'm in detention then," Marcus huffed.

"I'll see you there," Tyrell replied.

"Me too," Jay replied. "Who's with me in saying that this is a waste of time?" Most of the class raised their hands, including Angelo and Logan. Maxwell, Reuben and a few other students remained staunchly in defence of the despised Invention Convention.

"How come there are so little students willing to take part in activities to do with science and technology? We have an Invention Convention, for crying out loud!" Maxwell snapped.

"The few that actually liked science were probably repulsed by the fact that they get no choice in the matter. Forcing people to do stuff they don't want to do will just breed resentment," Angelo pointed out. "Why does nobody recognize that? Since when was kids having an academic choice a bad thing?" Kids murmured in a sense of mutual agreement before again being silenced by a death glare from Miss Turrets.

"Thank you, Maxwell and Angelo, for such a . . . riveting debate," the tired teacher drawled. "Now pack up and get to lessons. If you're late, then I'll hear about it from my boss." Students got up to leave, and Logan stayed close to Angelo the entire time, giggling and making subtle jokes to each other until they got to the typically deserted library. Maxwell was livid. Clearly, he'd have to step up their 'special treatment' the next time he saw them. They were too happy for his liking.

"So, what is your invention going to look like?" Logan eagerly asked. Angelo chuckled.

"Wouldn't you like to know, little leprechaun?" Angelo teased, ruffling Logan's hair. Maxwell was intrigued. He took out his phone so he could take photos or record when he wanted to.

"We have a free period right now; you can tell me then," Logan suggested. The genius chuckled and shook his head.

"Not until the Invention Convention, and that's tomorrow," Angelo explained. He was still teasing, but he was firm in his response. "I won't disappoint, I promise. What will you do for it?"

"I won't tell if you won't," Logan teased.

"You're right. That wouldn't be fair," Angelo sighed, as he rubbed Logan's back. Logan was secretly pissed off. He'd tried to get Angelo to spill the beans, but he was too oblivious to get it. "Wait, have you actually done anything for it?"

"You little shit! Thinking I didn't do anything? I'll get you for that!" Logan grinned, as he grabbed Angelo and put him into a headlock. But Angelo was bigger and stronger, and soon Logan was the one on the receiving end of a headlock. "Help!" But they were the only ones there. The librarian was gone (for some reason).

"Well, I'm not letting you be so mean," Angelo grinned. "Oh, you'll pay for this, you little squirt!" As one arm was used to hold Logan still, the other would scratch and tickle his stomach. Logan couldn't do anything but squeal and beg for mercy. Maxwell did his best to watch the two interact.

"Angelo, no! Oh, come on!" Logan snickered. "Get off me, you big lump! Eep! Sweetie!" Maxwell was confused. Why was Angelo calling Logan sweetie?

"Let me think . . . nah," Angelo grinned, scooping him up into a kiss. Logan kissed back. Maxwell couldn't wait any longer and took a picture on his phone. The flash went off, and both of them jumped. They looked at where the flash was, and saw Maxwell, grinning.

"Did . . . did you just take a photo?" Angelo stammered.

"Yeah. So what?" Maxwell asked, with a smirk. He wasn't usually this confident, but he could afford to be now. He had proof of them making out, after all. They were putty in his hands.

"What for?" Logan asked the blond blackmailer.

"I'm sure this will take you down a notch," Maxwell calmly explained, with a nonchalant expression on his face. "How do you think people will react to the school genius, their hero, kissing the loser?"

"Why do you hate us so much?" Logan asked. "Isn't there something we can do?"

"No! I'm sending this-" he waved the photo in front of the couple "-to everyone. And I mean everyone!" Logan and Angelo gulped. Logan let his head rest on Angelo's shoulder, trying to suppress the urge to cry.

"Maxwell! Maxwell, no!" Angelo pleaded. Maxwell smirked as he sent the picture to the school website. Angelo Riva didn't seem to know it all after all.

**Check out the newest couple in school ;-)**

That was what he captioned the candid photo with before posting it. He knew everyone used the school site, and people would know all about it soon. The thought of Angelo being mocked all though the school made Maxwell feel light-headed with glee. That gleefully grinning genius had annoyed him for the last time. Maxwell giggled as he ran away, staring at the photo with a look of malicious, perverted joy in his eyes. Angelo was going to be ruined.

* * *

By break time, Maxwell and Reuben got to see the fruits of their (Maxwell's) labours. People bombarded Angelo and Logan with question after question as they tried to calm them all down.

"OMG, what was that?"

"So you're both gay?"

"How long have you been hiding this?"

"ENOUGH!" Angelo roared. Silence reigned supreme. "Why is this such a big deal? All it means is that we kissed. I'm bisexual, not gay. There's a difference. And . . . we've been hiding this for about two weeks now."

"Then what about Logan?"

"I'm gay," Logan clarified.

"Oh, that adds up," someone said to their friend.

"Ha! I knew it! I knew that you were dating, and none of you took me seriously!" Maxwell shrieked. He sounded like he'd gone mad.

"First of all, I don't think anyone ever took you seriously," Angelo pointed out. His confidence was back. "Second of all, we ignored you because you were being a dick about it. You took my pizza and made comments about me being on a date and that we shouldn't stop on your account."

"There you go! You said it! Nobody was taking me seriously! That's why I took the picture of you making out!" Maxwell yelled. Everyone stared at Maxwell, and it was only then that he knew he had royally fucked up.

"Maxwell, what sort of right do you have to take pictures of people without their permission?" Angelo asked.

Maxwell began to falter. "I . . . um-" Angelo pressed forward.

"And do you have any idea how much trouble you'll be in? This violates the no photos on school grounds rule, the no photos without express permission rule and since we had no idea that you were even there until it was too late, I guess this counts as harassment and stalking to a degree." Angelo listed the infractions Maxwell had racked up like it was nothing.

"You can't do anything, Riva!" Maxwell replied, a condescending undertone to his nasally voice.

"Well, there are lots of eyewitnesses to your confession, for a start," Angelo stated. "And the photo literally has your name next to it, along with a timestamp." Angelo pulled out his phone and showed it to Logan, then Maxwell. "See? It has M. Norwood-Sykes in the bottom right-hand corner." The Italian chuckled at the stupidity. "You are so screwed. Now, I'm going to the principal to tell him or her everything."

"I'll take it down!" Maxwell promised.

"Too late," Angelo grinned, as he walked away. "I'm not sure if you've done this, but I read the small print of the school website before my first day. Isn't there something about the website that makes everything you post permanent?" Maxwell freaked out. His master plan wasn't supposed to be going wrong, and definitely not to this extent. He tried to delete the photo, but nothing was happening. By that time, Angelo had made it to the principal's office.

"Hello," the principal replied. The principal was a kindly old lady who tried to make the school a better place before the time came for her to retire. The nameplate on her desk read MRS JOSEPHSON. "I don't think I've seen you before, young man."

"My name is Angelo Riva, and I have something to show you," Angelo replied. "Could you please go onto the school website and go to the most recent posts?"

"Of course, Angelo," Mrs Josephson replied, going onto the school website on her computer and finding the photo in no time. "Oh, my! Angelo, is that you?"

"Yes. The other person is Logan Dobson. Someone took this photo without our knowledge and we have some idea who did it. The person who posted it put their name in the corner," Angelo replied. "Someone called M. Norwood-Sykes." Mrs Josephson was appalled at the lengths a person went to just to bully Angelo and Logan. But, after looking at the initials of the account used to post the photo, she immediately recognized them. The main benefactors of the school weren't going to be happy to hear about this.

"This is all I need, Angelo. Thank you," Mrs Josephson muttered.

"Can I go now?" Angelo asked.

"Yes, Angelo, you can now leave," the disappointed principal instructed. Angelo left and sat down on a nearby chair. He felt emotionally drained by it all, and feared Maxwell's reaction. What if everything got worse for him? Even worse, what if things got worse for Logan? Angelo could handle being taunted, but not other people being tormented because they were linked to him. He'd never be able to forgive himself.

When he went to his history lesson, Maxwell tried to butter him up. "So . . . Angelo. I made a little mistake with that photo. It won't happen again, I promise. You don't have to take this to the principal."

"I already did. I suppose you'll be called out of this lesson soon to go to the principal's office and explain yourself," Angelo remarked. Maxwell stammered, and then glared at Angelo.

"You didn't have to do that! Don't be so sensitive!" Maxwell sneered. "It's like you hate me, you know that?"

"Tell it to the principal," Angelo sighed, as he went to his seat. Reuben tried to comfort him as much as he could before going to his next class.

"I'm sure they won't be too harsh to you, even if you did skip class and post the photo," Reuben replied. "Besides, money talks. You said it yourself." Maxwell's skin crawled with fear.

"I . . . skipped . . . class?" Maxwell whisper-hissed.

"Well, you weren't there for English. I didn't know where you were," Reuben explained. "Why didn't you leave a note or something?" After his corpulent companion left for his next class, Maxwell scrambled for his timetable. Reuben was right. He should have been in his English class when he was acting as the candid cameraman. Miss Hollins came into the room and started lecturing about the Black Death, but Maxwell wasn't all there for it. He felt sick with fear. The boy had missed an assignment or two, but nothing quite like this! He'd been fine until Angelo came along. Just another thing the robot boy was responsible for. He jumped when he heard a knock on the door. A younger student was on the other side, with a note. He handed it to Miss Hollins and left. The gothic looking history teacher went to Maxwell's desk and handed him the note.

"The principal wants to see you in her office now. It's probably best that you take your stuff," Miss Hollins reported. Maxwell turned pale as he grabbed his stuff and scrambled out of the room. He sat on one of the chairs outside the office and felt dizzy and nauseous. His parents were going to be so mad at him. They'd probably ground him until he could drive. He'd been promising them that he would be really good friends and now he was going to be in trouble for bullying him, and serious trouble this time. It was official now: Maxwell Norwood-Sykes was a dead man walking.

"Maxwell Norwood-Sykes, it has recently come to my attention that you have bullied two other students using the school website by posting a photograph of them without their knowledge or consent," Mrs Josephson started, not looking happy in the slightest. "This photograph breaks rules to do with harassment, invasion of privacy, cyber-bullying, no photos on school grounds, no photos without express permission and you can expect to face serious consequences for this. Why did you seek out Mr Riva and . . . Mr Dobson in the first place, Maxwell?"

"I thought it would be funny," Maxwell admitted. No use in hiding it now. Basically the entire school could rat him out if he denied it. And he'd posted it.

"And after taking a look at the timestamp on the photo and comparing it to your timetable, it appears that you should have been in your English class around that time, but you were marked as absent," Mrs Josephson established, looking even less pleased than before. Maxwell shrank down into his seat. His life flashed before his eyes. "Do you have anything to say for yourself? Those pictures won't be deleted until you leave the school, and it has undoubtedly caused Angelo and Logan great pain."

"I'm sorry," Maxwell whimpered. "It won't happen again."

"I know it won't," Mrs Josephson replied coldly. "Sit outside my office until I call you back in. I have a few calls to make." Maxwell, on the verge of tears, sat back outside while the principal called his parents, and probably Angelo's, as well. She didn't look back at him once. The rest of the day went by in a haze for the blond bully. He heard the bell ring and the chatter of students as they transitioned from one lesson to the next, but it barely registered to him. Maxwell snapped out of it once his parents came in, furious.

"I just got a call from the school saying something about cyber harassment," Maxwell's mother hissed. "This had better be a misunderstanding, you hear me?" His father said nothing, and stared at a patch of wall next to the door until they were called. Angelo and Logan walked over to them and sat in the few remaining chairs next to each other. Mr Norwood-Sykes tried his best to strike up a conversation.

"Angelo, fancy seeing you here!" Mr Norwood-Sykes smiled, as Angelo tried to get himself settled without looking at Maxwell. "Got yourself in a spot of trouble?" He chuckled good-heartedly.

"I'm not the one in trouble," Angelo said. "I'd rather not go into it all, if you don't mind." Soon, Angelo's parents came into the waiting room and sat down with him. They seemed to be comforting him. Logan's mother, a brunette named Martha Dobson, came over and hugged Logan.

"It's going to be okay. I love you, you know that, right?" Martha whispered. Maxwell's parents didn't know why the boys' respective parents were being so supportive. Maxwell knew why, though, and it just became more nervous.

After what felt like a millennium had gone past, Mrs Josephson came out of her office, a stern look on her face. "Maxwell, Angelo, Logan, could you come inside my office with your respective parents?" Maxwell's father took issue with that immediately.

"Look here, Mrs Jacobson or whatever your name is, I'm supposed to be having this meeting with the victim of all this!" he snarled, getting in the old lady's face. "Keep the robot boy out of it!"

"It's Mrs Josephson to you, and Angelo Riva is a victim of this. He is one of the people your son bullied," Mrs. Josephson replied, not flinching in the slightest. Mr Norwood-Sykes backed down, turning as pale as his son. He went in without incident and his wife and son followed him in. Once the Norwood-Sykes family was inside, the Riva family and the Dobson family filed in.

"What happened with my son?" Bonaventura asked. "It must be serious if I was called here from work."

"Angelo came to me and reported that a photo had been taken of him and Logan being . . . intimate," Mrs Josephson clarified. She didn't want to go into too much detail, since Angelo and Logan looked so embarrassed already. "It came from Maxwell's school-issued account. When I asked him about it, he said he thought it would be funny."

"Could you please get rid of it?" Roselle pleaded.

"I'm sorry, but the school's website doesn't work that way," the elderly principal apologized. "We designed it not to in an effort to teach students that what they post on the internet stays there."

"But that's not fair!" Angelo pointed out. "Logan didn't ask for this! I didn't ask for this! It's embarrassing and the first thing anyone will see when they go onto the school website thinking of enrolling their child here!"

"My son is right!" the Italian's father agreed. "Why should he have to pay for another person's actions?"

"Your message was well-meaning, but your methods weren't properly thought out," Martha replied.

"Admittedly, this wasn't thought about when the school website was being made, but rest assured that this shall not be punished with a slap on the wrist," the principal promised. "Before you leave, is there anything you would like to say to Angelo and Logan, Maxwell?" This was Maxwell's big chance to redeem himself in front of his own parents, Logan's mother and Angelo's parents, as well as Angelo and Logan themselves. He took a deep breath and started his apology.

"Angelo and Logan, I'm sorry that I took a picture of you two in the library. I should've known better than to take the photo and post it." The apology sounded soulful and remorseful, and Angelo was close to forgiving him. But then Maxwell looked at Angelo's timid frame, opened his mouth to talk a second time . . . and managed to say all the wrong things. "I'm also sorry that I bothered skipping class to take the photo, because I'd rather deal with Macbeth than you and your ginger loser boyfriend. My education is important. You two are not." His mouth was working overtime in making sure he looked like a horrible person. After he'd finished talking, he knew his chances were screwed. He had said all the wrong things. Maxwell saw Logan glare at him and Angelo looked away. An ancient Italian form of dismissal. He was officially persona non grata to the child prodigy.

"Maxwell, leave Logan alone!" Angelo snapped. "And I thought this was supposed to be an apology!"

"What is the meaning of this?" Bonaventura asked, seeing red. How dare this child torment his son? He hadn't even hit puberty yet!

"I am so sorry about my son," Mrs Norwood-Sykes apologized, before grabbing Maxwell's wrist in a vice-like grip. "Come on, we're leaving."

"Not yet. There are still some things I need to discuss with you, madam," Mrs Josephson refused. The angry mother reluctantly sat down, glaring at Maxwell. Angelo had a request.

"Excuse me, Mrs Josephson, but do you mind if I step out?" Angelo asked.

"What for?" Mrs Josephson asked. She was worried about her student. This certainly wasn't normal, not by her experience.

"In all honesty, madam, I don't know whether I'm going to break down and cry or choke Maxwell senseless for the things he just said," Angelo told the principal bluntly. As all the parents, the principal, Logan and Maxwell stared, Angelo walked to the boys' toilets, then ran once he was out of their sight. He felt like he was going to be sick and punch someone and cry uncontrollably all at the same time. The world spun and Angelo grabbed onto a sink for stability. The inventor's stomach churned and he rushed over to a toilet and started heaving. But nothing came out. Angelo stayed in front of that toilet until the sensation ebbed away into nothing, and shakily got up onto his feet like Bambi on ice. He checked his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He looked haggard, like he hadn't slept in a while. His hair was messy and his eyes looked a little red, as if he'd been crying. Angelo splashed some water on his face, rubbing it in his face and checked his reflection after doing so. He looked a little better, so after he dried his face with some hand towels, he went back to the principal's office, where he found his parents waiting outside. "What are you doing?"

"We were waiting for you. The principal was finished with us, and Logan and his mother have already gone," Bonaventura explained. "Let's go home, son." The family walked to the car, and Angelo was confused.

"So you're really not mad at me?" Angelo asked.

"Angelo, I don't think you should worry about me grounding you because you got your first kiss," his father reassured.

"No, you shouldn't. Besides, your father was still pining over the neighbour girl at that time," Roselle pointed out. Angelo laughed.

"Thanks for being so supportive," Angelo smiled. "I was worried about this. Some parents try to train their kids out of behaviours they don't like after hearing about something like this."

"Some parents don't know how parenting and unconditional love works," the inventor's mother told him. "Your father and I wanted a child after your brother, and we wanted any child, so long as they were healthy. Well, we got any child."

"Yeah, and he's the hybrid of a nerd and the prankster," her husband replied. "Is he a nerd? Is he the prankster? He's the evil genius teenager!"

"Dad!" Angelo whined, giggling all the way to the car.

* * *

Over at the Norwood-Sykes mansion, all was not well. "We have told you over and over again to make a good impression on Angelo Riva, and you get yourself suspended for bullying him and not going to class!" Mrs Norwood-Sykes screamed. As a maid hurriedly walked by in an attempt to not be noticed and accused of eavesdropping, the matriarch of the house called her over. "You there! Go to Maxwell's room and take his appliances. Laptop, games console, phones, tablet, everything electronic in his room." Maxwell's jaw dropped.

"The TV too, madam?" she asked.

"Yes. Have the servants take it out and put it in storage. Maxwell won't be needing it now," Maxwell's mother ordered. Maxwell became nearly hysterical.

"But how will I call you without a phone?" Maxwell whimpered.

"Let me worry about that," his mother snapped, as she stormed off. After such a stressful day, she needed a martini and a chick flick. Who cared that it was only Monday? Maxwell stormed over to the pantry and started searching for the chocolate chip cookies. Nothing. Muffins? Nothing. Everything sweet was gone. The teenager ran over to the housekeeper and flagged her down as if she was a cab.

"Where are all the snacks?" he snapped at her. "I checked the pantry and they're all gone! I have nothing good to eat!"

"We ran out yesterday," the housekeeper explained. "We haven't had the time to get more in between our chores."

"Then drive over and get some!" Maxwell yelled. The housekeeper stiffened, before bending to the brat's will.

"Let me ask your mother if I can use one of her cars to drive over to the supermarket and buy you something," she replied, as she made the journey to Maxwell's mother. He couldn't hear the conversation between the two women, but soon his mother stormed over to Maxwell, ready to give him a piece of her mind.

"You cannot have anything sweet for the rest of the month!" the angry, humiliated mother told him. "I have no idea how many times I have told you to be that kid's friend, but it's been escaping you ever since you got here! If you want him to be a friend of yours, then you have to be nice! Flatter him! Butter him up!"

"I don't like him!" Maxwell pleaded.

"And he won't like you if you keep being mean to him," Mrs Norwood-Sykes huffed. "Now, I've been thinking and I suppose you should have a mobile phone so your father and I can call you."

"Finally!" Maxwell smiled, as he held out his hand, expecting his phone to be placed in it. What he actually got was an old, scratched Nokia 3310. "Is this a joke?"

"No. I should've done this a long time ago," Maxwell's mother told the stunned delinquent. "Here are our numbers, which you will need if you want to call us. And I think that thing has games on it, like Snake. So it is just like your old phone."

"I'm going to break it and then you'll have to give me my phone back!" Maxwell declared.

"But then you won't have any phone," his mother retorted. "It's this or nothing." Maxwell sighed, deciding not to break the phone after all. He went to go find his dad, who was currently closing up a big deal with a business partner. Maxwell waited until he got off the phone, and then pestered him.

"Dad, you remember the Invention Convention?" Maxwell tentatively asked.

"Yes, Maxwell?" his father replied.

"If I'm suspended, how will I get to the Invention Convention?" Maxwell asked.

"You should have thought about that earlier, shouldn't you?" his father replied, glaring at him. "You'll probably have to come in just for that, since it's compulsory, and then resume your suspension. I'll ask the school now."

"Thanks, Dad," Maxwell said, as he left his father's home office. He stared at the phone and cried. He felt like he'd lost everything. Maxwell would never have predicted that he would have a record of bullying or bad behaviour. That stuff just didn't happen to people like him. He was a good kid . . . right? Exhausted and upset, Maxwell fell asleep. He woke up hours later by a maid.

"Your mother told me to tell you that dinner is ready," the maid told the young Master Norwood-Sykes. Maxwell groaned and got out of bed, not ready to face his parents. But he had to. Maxwell took his seat at the dinner table and tried to ignore the cold silence.

"Maxwell, I've talked to the school, and you'll have to come in for the Invention Convention. Your suspension will start the day after that," his father notified. Maxwell breathed a sigh of relief. It was good to know that he would be able to taunt the literal smartest kid in town one more time before his suspension. "But you have to keep your distance from Angelo Riva and Logan . . . whatever his surname is." Maxwell chose to ignore that part. All that mattered was that he was allowed to participate in the Invention Convention, just like everyone else. He, just like all of his peers, had a chance to prove his intellectual prowess.

 _Invention Convention, here I come. Watch out, Angelo Riva,_ he thought, grinning as he shoved another mouthful of pasta into his maw.


	15. The Invention Convention

_Tuesday, May 21st_

* * *

Angelo woke up on the day of the dreaded Invention Convention in a good mood. He raced around the house, taking an early morning shower first, then a quick bowl of cornflakes before brushing his teeth and getting changed into some smart but relatively casual clothes, as per the dress code. (Despite the intelligence he possessed, Angelo would never fully understand why there had to be a dress code.) Grey dress shirt, with corduroy black blazer and trousers to match, black leather belt, but no tie. Angelo had always hated ties and how tight they felt, so he didn't wear one. "Oh, Angelo, _mio bambino_ (1), you look so smart!" his mother gushed, rubbing her son's head. "Is this for the Invention Convention?"

"Yes. They said there was a dress code," Angelo sighed.

"Have you forgotten something?" his father asked.

"Not as far as I know . . . oh, shoot! Be right back!" Angelo babbled, racing down to the basement and grabbing the box that was his invention. "Thanks for reminding me, Dad!" he thanked as he returned from the basement. His dad laughed.

"That's not what I was going to say, but it's good to know you remembered the most important thing to bring to an Invention Convention. I was going to tell you that your fly is down," Angelo's dad snickered. Angelo blushed the darkest shade of red neither of his parents had ever seen. Gingerly placing the invention on the floor, he did up his fly and picked the invention back up.

"What's in there, anyway?" Mirella asked. She was in a light green polo shirt and a charcoal skirt with black tights - a typical school uniform. "What did you make?"

"Angelo's made it a surprise until today, Mirella," their mother smiled.

"Can I see it?" Mirella begged. "Pleeeeeeeease?"

"Mirella, you're going to be in school at that time, but we'll videotape it, OK?" their father promised, and Mirella calmed down. Angelo grinned.

"I'll tell you all about the other inventions, OK?" Angelo soothed. The next thing he knew, he was being hugged by the five-year old.

"Thank you!" she squealed. Angelo chuckled and hugged her back.

"OK, Mirella, I've got to go to school now. Have a good day," Angelo greeted. Mirella pouted, but still waved at him as he got into the car with his precious invention and was driven to the school by his parents. When he got there, he went into the assembly hall, where he found a lot less students than he thought. He had severely underestimated the amount of students who would simply refuse to bring something in and took the detention. He found himself a space and set up his invention, while his parents took a seat.

"Angelo!" someone yelled, and Angelo looked up to see Logan running over to him. He was wearing a green suit and tie, with a black tie. "Are you OK?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, sweetie," Angelo reassured, getting up to kiss Logan's forehead. "What's important is are you OK? Maxwell was horrible."

"I'm fine," Logan explained. "You reckon Maxwell's been punished by anyone?"

"I doubt it. Maxwell's like Teflon; nothing sticks to him," Angelo quipped. The teenage couple laughed. "What is it about him that makes the teachers go easy on him?"

"His parents are the school's biggest benefactors," Logan casually answered. Angelo stared at him.

"Shut up."

"I'm serious. His parents financed half of the computers in the IT department and all the PE equipment the school has," Logan told him. "This must be another one of their stupid publicity stunts, and if my memory serves me correctly, the town newspaper should be in here somewhere." Logan's eyes scanned the room and soon found a female journalist with a microphone interviewing students about their inventions while a cameraman took photos. "That's them there." Angelo tried to make it look like he was minding his own business, but then they spotted Angelo and made a beeline toward him.

"And here we have Angelo Riva, child prodigy and robotics expert competing for the cash prize in the Invention Convention," the journalist introduced, being as charismatic and as charming as what you would expect. "I'm beginning to wonder if it's even fair to have you in the competition, given that you have so much more experience with conventions like this."

"This competition is compulsory. I have no choice in the matter," Angelo told her outright. The journalist looked flustered for a moment, but her face soon settled back into a confident smile.

"But what have you invented for us?" she asked.

"I'd like that to be a surprise until I choose to reveal it," Angelo smiled. The journalist wanted to ask more, but could tell that she wasn't getting anything more out of the youth. So she moved on to Logan.

"And what have you invented for the first ever Invention Convention?" she asked.

"I would also like that to be a surprise," Logan told her. The journalist huffed and moved on to some other unsuspecting, awkward teenagers nervously presenting their pet projects.

"Seriously, Angelo, what have you invented?" Logan asked, trying to peek into the box. His hand was batted away.

"Not until my name is called," Angelo told him.

"But you're the very last person in the list!" Logan pouted.

"Then you'll have to wait, won't you?" Angelo taunted. "I'll help you prepare if you want."

"I can do it myself, but thanks for offering," Logan smiled, as he took a few pens out of a tin box. "The judges will either love these or hate them. Wait, who are the judges again?"

"I think they might be the people sitting on the very long, very obvious table that they have labelled ' **Judges** '," Angelo pointed out. Logan glared at him.

"Oh, very funny," Logan deadpanned. "I knew that."

"I'm sure you did, leprechaun," Angelo cooed, pinching Logan's face. Logan glared at him even more. "What's the schedule for people to be presenting their inventions? Do you know where they are?"

"Come with me," Logan instructed, and the teenage inventor was taken to a noticeboard of events. The number of people who would be presenting on stage was only around a hundred people, and the school had roughly two hundred students enrolled there. And, as Logan had said, Angelo was at the very bottom. Logan was the fifth person to present. It was nerve-wracking for both of them. Both of them tried to comfort the other one.

"It must be tough being one of the first people on stage," Angelo sighed.

"But you're the very last. By the time you get there, the audience may be tired and bored," Logan tried to tell him. "Either way, good luck."

"You too," Angelo smiled, kissing Logan. Logan was stunned, but closed his eyes and returned it. Angelo wasn't normally this bold. They would have continued it, but they heard a cough from someone. It was Maxwell, of all people.

"Do you mind? I'm trying to eat," he told them, as he munched on a milk chocolate chip cookie.

"I'm sorry, but did I look like someone who wanted to see you?" Angelo asked. "Leave us alone."

"Why are you even here?" Logan asked.

"For the Invention Convention, duh," Maxwell pointed out rudely, taking a final bite out of the cookie. "I just wanted to know what you were making. You said that you weren't going to tell anyone until now. So, let's see it."

"I don't want you near it," Angelo told him, blocking Maxwell's access with his body. The blond tried to reach around him, and his fingers almost brushed over the lid when he heard his father's voice.

"Maxwell Lacey Norwood-Sykes!" his father yelled. "You get away from them this instant!" Maxwell jumped and ran away, as people stared and giggled at the scene they were making. It was a satisfying case of instant karma for the couple.

"Can I get a monthly subscription to Maxwell getting yelled at by his dad so I can see that once a month for the rest of my life?" Angelo asked. Logan giggled.

"Who'd have thought that Maxwell's middle name was Lacey?" Logan giggled. "I'll have to remember that!"

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, please put your hands together for the first ever Invention Convention!" Miss Turrets introduced. People politely clapped and kids straightened out ties and smoothed stray hairs into place. Logan tried to do so with his own hair, but despite it not being curly, it never seemed to stay the way it was supposed to. Disgruntled, he left it alone. So long as his clothes were fine, he was fine. "Here is where the intellect of our students is put to the test, and all of them are competing for a big cash prize!" Parents oohed excitedly. "So without further ado, let's hand it over to our first contestant, Melissa Crewe!" A girl with long blonde hair walked onto the stage to a polite smattering of applause. She came on stage with a teddy. A few kids snickered at her. This girl was far too old for stuffed toys.

"My invention is supposed to solve the problem of people having their wallet or car keys stolen from them by burglars," Melissa introduced, proudly. "I have designed a teddy that opens up so you can store things inside it." She unscrewed the teddy's head and took out a set of keys, a note, and her phone. "Remember, people, there are many places a burglar will look, but not near a child's toy! And that concludes my invention." People clapped and she walked off stage. Miss Turrets was quick to take up the empty space that she left.

"Thank you, Melissa. The next person on my list is . . ." The terrible teacher's voice faded into the background as other students presented their inventions. There was the normal go-kart that ran on 2-litre Coca-Cola with Mentos inside (the best part of it was when the bottles exploded into the cameraman's face) the flying darts cannon (that was disqualified for being a safety hazard) and the bait handbag that squirted paint in people's faces. Miss Turrets looked a lot less happy now. The perfect little Invention Convention was becoming a lot less perfect. Maxwell's parents were also becoming a lot less pleased.

"I thought there would be more contestants," Maxwell's mother hissed. "There's around two hundred stupid kids in that school! And there's twenty consecutive days of detention if you don't do it! Why are so many kids doing detention?"

"This is supposed to be a popular event! All these kids are competing for money! Kids love money!" Maxwell's father hissed back. The conceited couple had no idea why or how their plan had gone wrong, but immediately knew who to blame. Their son had come up with it after all. "Never mind. The robot boy will win this easily, whether he tries or not."

"And next up we have . . . Logan Dobson!" Miss Turrets introduced. Logan walked onto the stage nervously, and handed each of the judges a pen.

"My plan is more for entertainment than to solve a problem. I have always found people who have no proper equipment annoying, because then they borrow yours and either never give it back or return it with damage. I made a special new batch of pens that should stop this little problem all on its own."

"And what is it about this pen that makes it so - AAAARGH!" Miss Turrets screamed, as the pen exploded in her hands and left an inky mess all over the top of her dress. (And it was a white dress, too.) Students and parents alike laughed as Miss Turrets tried to remove the ink with a tissue, but only made the problem worse for herself. "Logan Dobson, you are disqualified for bringing an invention that can be classed as a safety hazard! A squirt of that ink could go into a person's eye and blind them for life!"

"Good talking to you too! And that concludes my invention!" Logan finished, and people clapped. The ink-covered teacher was livid with Logan, but knew that the show had to go on. Hurriedly, she confiscated the pens from the judges before they, too, had ink on their clothes. It ended up on her dress, but sacrifices would have to be made if the Invention Convention was to be a success.

"After that little . . . mishap, it's time for another invention from one of our lovely students. Presenting now is . . . " Now Logan, the only person Angelo was really interested in, had finished his presentation, Angelo drifted off, only half-listening to the other inventions as he waited for his turn. There were many crazy things that found their way onto the stage, like the robot that braided your hair for you (this was deemed a failure and promptly disqualified when it was tested on Mrs. Norwood-Sykes and it took out one of her hair extensions) the hat with a drink holder inside it (disqualified for having already been invented) and funniest of all, the guy who brought in a spray can full of glue and offered to test it on Miss Turrets' mouth so she stopped talking. (He was later disqualified for insulting a teacher.) Nobody could wait for a student to take things seriously. Angelo's parents, on the other hand, definitely could. This was the funniest Invention Convention they'd ever been to.

"I should have brought popcorn," Bonaventura lamented. "This is so funny!"

"Got you a snack in case you got bored," Roselle replied, handing her husband a Galaxy bar. He bit into it, savouring the chocolatey flavour and stopped talking. His wife sighed and thanked her lucky stars that it was so easy to keep a man quiet so long as you had food on hand.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am sorry that today has been so . . . tumultuous. But fear not, for the show is about to end. We have only a few students left who have yet to present. Next we have . . ." Miss Turrets paused for dramatic effect " . . . Maxwell Norwood-Sykes!" The parents clapped politely, but most, if not all, of the students booed him. Maxwell had cemented his status as the resident conceited snob by this point, and his parents were humiliated and angry by the reception their precious only child was getting. Angelo's parents and Logan's mother were furious that he was even here.

"Hey, that's the kid that posted a picture of our son!" Roselle exclaimed. "Shouldn't he be excluded or something like that?"

"That boy is a bully and the school said that they would be punishing him!" Martha ranted to the unfortunate people next to her. "Why is he here?"

"Quiet! Quiet, all of you!" Miss Turrets screamed. "You do not treat a student that way when all he is trying to do is present his invention that I'm sure he worked very hard on! Even if you don't like him, you still have to give a polite round of applause!"

"Well, I guess they don't know that most people here refuse to applaud homophobic douchebags," Logan muttered. Maxwell seemed nervous, but shook it off. If he beat Angelo in something, anything, he would make sure that he never let the genius forget it. He would be the person who let Angelo know that he wasn't so smart after all.

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen!" Maxwell enthusiastically introduced, smiling widely as he tried to seem more confident that he was. The wide smile was actually rather cringeworthy, and there were several sneaky photos of it by Angelo for laughs. He had learned from Maxwell's mistake and turned the flash off beforehand. "My invention is supposed to revolutionize the world of renewable energy, and here it is." Maxwell brought out a stress toy that was attached to two wires and a phone charger, which had his mother's old phone that she no longer used charging in it. "How it works is you continually click on this button and the kinetic energy caused by the clicking will be converted into electrical energy, which can charge a typical smartphone. And I'm going to demonstrate it right now." The blond wannabe inventor started frantically clicking the stress toy and, to his utter joy, it looked like it was working. The phone came to life, bleeping as the screen displayed that the phone had 53% charge and was currently charging. "This is amazing, ladies and gentlemen! And if my theory is correct, pressing the button faster should make the phone charge faster and for longer." To prove the theory he was so confident about, he started clicking faster, really putting effort into it. The phone's percentage seemed to be going up at a faster rate, but then it randomly shut off. The blank screen was suddenly replaced by a green and black screen covered in binary code. "Um, excuse me, people, I'm experiencing some technical difficulties." He tried to turn the phone on and off again, but to no avail. That phone was a goner, and his parents were going to be so mad. "Hey, does anyone know how to restore phones?" People giggled, and soon the giggling progressed into outright laughter. "Hey, this is not funny! Stop laughing!" But they didn't stop. It got louder, and eventually the evil educator had to escort him off. The jeering continued, and jokes continued around the assembly hall until everyone was silenced using the infamous airhorn.

"ENOUGH, ALL OF YOU!" Miss Turrets screamed, and the crowd settled down in seconds. "We have a final contestant waiting to present their invention. Last, but not least, Angelo Riva!" People cheered happily, whooping as Angelo walked on stage carrying his invention. The prodigy had been to so many Invention Conventions that he knew what he had to do as if it was written on the back of his hand.

"Good day, ladies and gentlemen, and thank you for being so patient," Angelo started, opting to start by complimenting the audience. "My invention is designed to tackle some of society's less important but very annoying problem of porch pirates. This term might be familiar to people as a way of describing those lovely people who steal packages off your doorstep and leave you out of pocket. My solution is to give these thieves what they want: a package to steal."

"How interesting," Mr Norwood-Sykes smiled, interrupting the presentation to shake Angelo's hand. "Out of curiosity, is that it there?"

"Yes, it is," Angelo confirmed. "The trigger mechanism starts once it is opened." Without a with-your-leave or by-your-leave, Mr Norwood-Sykes picked the box up and carried it over to the judges' table. (Like father, like son, apparently.) "What are you doing?"

"You know, Angelo, it would be a really good idea if I open your invention and you explain it!" the furniture mogul proposed. Angelo was about to say no, but then he thought about it. Mr Norwood-Sykes was carrying out part of his plan for the best and worst invention ever. Who would he be to say no?

"If you insist," Angelo replied. Smirking, Maxwell's father carried over the spoils of war to the judges' table. When he finally set the box down, he rubbed his hands over it like a little kid on Christmas Day. He opened it up, keeping his face about an inch away from the opening flap of the box and-

BOOM!

The judges (both of Maxwell's parents and two other benefactors Angelo had never seen before) screamed as they had red glitter thrown in their faces. Then orange glitter. Then yellow glitter, until they had gotten through the rainbow in glitter. The audience laughed hysterically as the high and mighty socialites were knocked off their pedestal by something that a teenager had bought in an arts and crafts store in bulk. "Angelo, get over here and help! It's malfunctioning! You've got to turn it off!" the furniture emperor pleaded.

"It's not malfunctioning, mister; it's supposed to do that. It's a decoy package and you just opened it," Angelo disputed. "After the glitter, you'll get a strong whiff of liquid ass one every twenty seconds."

"Don't use such foul language in - OH MY GOD!" The judges screamed as they were sprayed with a foul smelling liquid that was actually named Liquid Ass. "That is absolutely disgusting!" Students laughed, whooped and applauded. Parents were finally paying attention to the show the school had forced their kids to help them with. And the journalist was having a field day with this.

"You're not taking pictures fast enough! This is going to be a sell-out edition of the newspaper! I would bet my life on it!" she hissed, as the cameraman desperately zoomed in on the carnage for better photos.

"Once the Liquid Ass has started, you should be getting plentiful doses of paint," Angelo forecast. As if on cue, paint exploded onto the judges' faces, but mostly onto Mrs Norwood-Sykes.

"My dress! My beautiful dress!" she screamed. Angelo stood there with a big grin on his face.

"Did I not mention the feathers?" Angelo asked. Fistfuls of vibrant arts and crafts feathers exploded into the judges' faces and stuck to their now ruined clothing, and Miss Turrets had had enough.

"Angelo, what on earth are you doing?" the sadistic schoolteacher shrieked. "This is a prestigious event that people take part in very seriously! These students want to compete and prove themselves in a scientific field! And just what do you have to say for yourself?" Angelo only smiled wider.

"Would everybody who came onto this stage to present an invention, disqualified or not, please come back onto the stage?" Angelo announced. Everyone who had been on the stage to present their invention flooded the stage and stood behind Angelo. "Now, would you please move to the left of the stage if you took this damn Invention Convention seriously, and move to the right if you did not?" Only a few students moved to the left. The bulk of the students went to the right. "Parents that are in the room, something you should know about this first ever Invention Convention is that it's based on an ultimatum. Either you compete here, with your invention, on this stage, or you have detention after school every day for twenty days straight, which is basically a month, once you realize that we don't go to school on the weekends. As you can tell, not all the kids are here because about half of the school chose. The. Detention." Parents gasped. "Now all of you, get back into a nice, big group, because I want to do this again, but with a different question. If you weren't being forced to do the Invention Convention, would you still be here? If your answer is yes, move to the left. If not, move to the right." Only Maxwell and a few other nerds moved to the left. Literally everyone else, including Angelo, moved to the right. "I think this speaks for itself, don't you? This concludes my invention. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen." Angelo walked off the stage, while his fellow contestants cheered and whooped. His parents left with him, neither one angry with their son for his behaviour. The other parents were screaming at the teachers for giving their kids such a cruel ultimatum for the sake of good publicity. The teachers were screaming back. The Willowdale newspaper reporters were having the time of their lives filming the chaos and collecting statements from angry parents. The wonderful little Invention Convention for the kids was turning into a horrible little freak show at a scarily fast rate.

And it started with Angelo Riva.

* * *

Before they knew it, Angelo was at home, watching TV and scratching Pepsi's tummy. He jumped when his parents came into the room and addressed him. "Angelo, I need to talk to you about the Invention Convention," his father calmly said. "Why did you make something that explodes in the judges' faces and then cause chaos? This isn't like you. We've been to other science fairs and invention conventions and you were never like this."

"Dad, this wasn't my normal behaviour because this isn't a normal invention convention like the others," Angelo explained. "Everyone was told they had to do something or get detention, and I never wanted to volunteer because I was so used to invention conventions and it would be unfair. But they said I had to do it anyway, along with everyone else. So to basically give a huge middle finger to the school, I made a glitter bomb and added some paint, a few handfuls of feathers, and some Liquid Ass and let one of the judges take it and blow it up in their faces. And I wasn't even the only one to do something like it, either!" Angelo's father listened to it patiently.

"So you were forced to compete against your will?" his dad asked, appalled.

"That's what I've been trying to tell you this entire time! They wanted an invention, but they never said they wanted a good invention," Angelo grinned. His father laughed.

"I'm not mad, but if the school punishes you, I'm going to make you comply with it," Bonaventura laughed. "That was the funniest invention convention I have ever seen!"

"And the best part was that Maxwell's parents were on the judges' table," Angelo laughed. The two collapsed laughing onto the sofa. It was pretty clear that Angelo wasn't in any trouble at home. "Wait. Why are Maxwell's parents on the judging panel if he's competing? Isn't that blatant bias?"

"I bet you that if the bully wins, you clean the whole house for us," Bonaventura bet him.

"Please. He straight-up asked the audience if there was anyone who knew how to restore phones after the one he was using showed a screen covered in binary code," Angelo disputed. "He was the only contestant to be booed onto the stage and laughed off of it. No way is Maxwell in the running."

"So you agree to the bet?" the inventor's father asked. Angelo hesitated, then nodded and shook his father's hand.

"Dad, you've got a deal," Angelo grinned. "I'll tell you about it once I get to school." Suddenly, the phone rang. It was Santo. Angelo smiled. He had the coolest thing to tell him.

"Hey, Angelo!" Santo greeted. "Anything interesting happen to you today?"

"Oh, have I got the coolest thing to tell you," Angelo grinned. "We had an Invention Convention so all the lessons were shut down so we could use the assembly hall to host it. There was a cash prize involved, too. The winner would receive £1000."

"Sounds like you have this in the bag! I mean, you've done this schtick before, right?" Santo asked.

"But I didn't want to do it because I've done this before. I was competing against other geniuses before, but these are normal kids, and most of them didn't want to do this anyway," Angelo explained. "And if the school's going to make me give them an invention, I'll make them an invention . . . but not one they'll like."

"This is going to be good," Santo grinned. "Go on."

"So I got myself a box and rigged it to throw glitter in their faces, squirt Liquid Ass at them because it was the smelliest thing I could find, and I threw in some whipped cream and feathers at them for good measure," Angelo explained. Santo collapsed laughing, while other people on his naval base looked at him oddly. He eventually got up, and laughed some more into the phone.

"Angelo, you genius! You absolute genius!" Santo laughed. "I still can't believe you did that!"

"And the best part was that one of the judges was the school bully's dad!" Angelo laughed. "This kid in my school is mean to everyone and people are getting sick of him, but the teachers don't do anything to him because his parents are benefactors and pay for stuff. Well, his dad was one of the judges and it blew up in his face probably more than anyone else! Talk about revenge!"

"Revenge? What did he do to you?" Santo asked, the laughter taken out of his voice completely.

"He outed my relationship with Logan to the whole school," Angelo muttered, not feeling so good anymore. "We were dating in secret so we weren't bullied and he posted a photo of us making out to the school website."

"Wait, he found you when you were making out and let the whole school see?" Santo asked. "I'm not sure whether to congratulate you for getting some or come over to find this guy and punch him in the face."

"Actually, you've already met the guy that did it," Angelo told him. "He's the guy that we met with his parents in that awkward meeting in the café. You remember, him, right? He was short, blonde, rather scrawny, and he told his parents that I was an inventor."

"That little shit!" Santo snapped. "The next time you see him, you should punch him right in the face!"

"He's probably suspended for what he did, though, so that's a good thing that came out of it, I guess," Angelo pointed out, trying to be an optimist about it all. "It should last about a week, right? I mean, he skipped a lesson to do it, so it should be fairly serious."

"I hope his parents are screaming at him from all over their fancy mansion," the eldest son grumbled. He wanted nothing more than to come over to the small town Angelo was living in to beat his bully up.

"I hope so, too," Angelo sighed.

* * *

Meanwhile, over at the Norwood-Sykes mansion, Maxwell's parents were washing the glitter and paint off their bodies while the servants were ordered to take the outfits they had worn that day and bin them. They were ruined now, and it was, without a doubt, the worst thing they had ever funded with their abundance of money. And the worst part was that there was obviously going to be photos, since they were the only ones in the whole town rich enough (and smug enough) to hire a photographer and the entire town newspaper to cover their public humiliation.

"My beautiful dress!" Mrs Norwood-Sykes sobbed. "I'm never going to find anything quite like it again!"

"I shall buy you a much better dress to make up for it, sweetie," her husband comforted. "One with diamond studs on it. And matching shoes."

"But it won't be the same!" the sobbing wife complained.

"Because it will be better than the same," the furniture boss promised. Maxwell sighed and started going through his reserve of pocket money. He had enough to buy himself at least ten packs of normal-sized muffins. Perfect. After today, he would really need a chocolatey pick-me-up. He put on an ill-fitting polo shirt (that let his growing muffin top peek out) and some tracksuit bottoms and went outside to get himself some food. The cashier almost batted an eye at the large order he'd placed. Almost.

"And would you like a bag?" she asked.

"Um, yeah," Maxwell replied, surprised at himself for saying 'yeah' and not 'yes' like he had been taught to say growing up. It was bad manners and showed that you hadn't been raised properly, according to his parents and their snobby friends. He dumped a bunch of notes in front of her and said, "Is this enough?"

"Yeah, and your change will be coming up once I count this," she replied. She punched a few keys and soon had an accurate figure for Maxwell's change. "Here you go."

"About time!" Maxwell huffed, taking his multitude of muffins and leaving. As he left the store, he ran into a bunch of other rowdy kids who didn't like him. They had seen his and his family's public humiliation along with half of the school and the parents that came with those students, and the jokes came rolling in.

"Hey, Maxwell, do you know how to fix my phone?" one of them asked, and they chuckled.

"Don't do that, man, God knows that he wouldn't be able to cope if he went into technical difficulties," another replied, and they all howled with laughter.

"Go to hell!" Maxwell yelled, as he walked off with his precious cargo. _Good thing I don't have to come to school for the next few days._ He snuck into the house and started stuffing his face with muffins. In an hour, at least four packs of muffins had been devoured. Now to hide the evidence. He placed one wrapper in a different bin throughout the house, and shook each bin to hide the waste under more waste. Satisfied, he hid the uneaten ones in the mini fridge in his room (why he had or needed a mini fridge is a mystery lost to time) and slipped into a food coma. Everything would be OK . . . at least, everything would be OK until he woke up.

* * *

Translations

1: My baby. Italian.


	16. Aftermath of the Invention Convention

_Wednesday, May 22nd_

* * *

Angelo went to school early, and was met by Logan on the way. "How do you do, genius badass?" Logan smiled, before kissing Angelo. Angelo was startled, but closed his eyes and kissed him back, harder and stronger. Logan's knees almost buckled. Damn, Angelo Riva was one hell of a kisser. The next thing the redhead knew, Angelo was walking to school, his ridiculously long legs leaving him in the dust.

"Come on, Logan, we're almost there!" Angelo smiled. "Just a little longer now!"

"But it's school and it's so boring!" Logan whined. "Stop walking so fast!" Angelo stopped long enough for Logan to catch up.

"You still have to go because it's compulsory by law," Angelo told him. "Come on!"

"No. It sucks and nothing changes around here."

"We had easily the worst Invention Convention of all time and Maxwell got himself suspended. That doesn't seem like a normal thing to happen around here."

"I suppose you have a point," Logan sighed. "Come on, sweetie. I'm sure that today that won't be much different from the other days." The two looked at each other, didn't say a word for about two seconds . . . and laughed hysterically. "After yesterday? Today's going to be just crazy!"

"Let's go in and find out!" Angelo laughed. "But I want to see how long it takes for someone to point me out!" The two giggled, and Angelo put a hoodie on and put the hood over his head, covering part of his face. "You go in first and I'll go in after." Smiling like the lovestruck dork he was, he walked into the school. His popularity had increased dramatically after he had squirted ink on Miss Turrets' dress.

"Nice one, Logan! That was so cool!" a rebellious kid congratulated.

"Thanks . . . I guess," Logan smiled.

"Hey, have you seen Angelo today?" someone asked. Logan nodded.

"He'll be here soon," Logan assured, smiling.

"What he did to the judges was incredible! Glitter blew up in their faces and they had paint on their clothes and everything! And then he exposed everything about the stupid Invention Convention and all the parents was screaming and all of the judges were so mad!"

"What's the school going to do about it? They're going to be so pissed at him!"

"There's not going to be anything done to him. The parents are so mad at them, they probably won't be allowed to punish anyone for things to do with the Invention Convention. It was amazing! I've never seen parents so mad before!"

"It was awesome! Logan, your boyfriend is such a badass!"

"I know," Logan replied, smug. Angelo walked over to the impromptu discussion virtually undetected, keeping his head down and his hood up. Logan fought to contain a smile.

"Who'd have thought it? Angelo Riva, the nerdiest, coolest prankster this school has ever seen," a kid chuckled. "I've never seen a cool nerd before. He's weird, but a good kind of weird."

"Are you sure it's a good idea to call him weird in front of his boyfriend? He might tell Angelo you said that," a girl warned.

"Hey, don't be so uptight about it; I see being called weird as a compliment by now," Angelo replied. People gasped at how Angelo had managed to sneak in, before cheering and rushing over to him.

"Oh my god, it's him!" a girl screamed. Like a celebrity, people rushed over to Angelo and screamed and cheered him for the epic prank of dismantling the damned Invention Convention. He was a hero, like Robin Hood but without stealing from anyone.

"Angelo! Angelo! ANGELO! ANGELO! ANGELO!" the crowd cheered. It was like something out of a movie. (And that movie was probably _Rudy_.)

"What you did was awesome! I don't think I've ever seen anything so cool!" Logan was so proud of his boyfriend and tried to force himself through the crowd to get to Angelo. He tried to get close to him for a hug, and he was almost there when Mr Carey came in.

"Good morning, class. Take your seats," he instructed calmly. People sat down calmly and happily. Angelo walked over to Logan and ruffled his hair. "Miss Turrets has called in sick, so I will be handling registration and announcements. Regarding the Invention Convention, all students who actually want to do the Invention Convention can sign a form over at student reception. However, you must do so by the end of the school week, or your name will be struck off the list of competitors. Also, after some debate, all detentions regarding the Invention Convention have been declared null and void." There was loud cheering and whoops of glee all around the school. Reuben, who was listening to all of this, seethed as he thought about how angry Maxwell would be at Angelo not being punished. But at the same time, Angelo's prank was funny and inspiring, standing up to the benefactors on behalf of the students. He never really liked Maxwell's family that much, and since they forced everyone to do the convention for their own gain, they kind of deserved this. What was he thinking? He couldn't be agreeing with Angelo, of all people! Maxwell would be so mad!

 _But Maxwell's not here,_ a rebellious voice in his head whispered. After years of listening to Maxwell's insane ramblings and mindlessly conforming to them, this defiant voice had been forcibly muted. But now it could talk, and it whispered mutinous sweet nothings into Reuben's ear. _You're not going to be taking orders from someone that isn't there, are you?_

"I can't believe it! I got away with sabotaging the Invention Convention!" Angelo whispered gleefully. "I stood on that stage and spilled the tea about everything and nobody did anything! How did this work?"

"I don't know but it's awesome!" Logan whispered back. Luckily for them, Mr Carey didn't notice anything was wrong with them when he dismissed them for the first lesson and everyone went to maths. Logan and Angelo were split up into classes of moderate skill (Logan) and high skill (Angelo). He found that he had quite a different reception to the class. More specifically, he wasn't being teased and sneered at by Maxwell's cronies. This was mostly because he was suspended and no longer had any real influence, but partly because they had a little respect for him now.

"Hey, Angelo! Cool invention!" Melissa smiled. "You could have seriously won that, you know?"

"I didn't even take it seriously, though. You could have won the whole thing with a teddy that has a head that unscrews," Angelo pointed out. "It wouldn't be fair for me to win against people who never wanted to be in the running. That would be wrong. However, messing with the judges felt right." The two laughed.

"All right, students, get out your homework and hand it over," the teacher smiled. Everyone handed it into the teacher, and it was a full house. "This is perfect, class! Nothing but the best from my students, of course!" This teacher was really happy with her students, and it showed. It made the students want to do better to keep her happy. "Now onto the quadratic equations, class." A worksheet was handed out to the class. "This is to be completed by the end of the lesson and anything that isn't done now is your homework to be handed in next lesson." Students groaned, while Angelo got down to business. It wasn't as if it was his first time doing these sorts of maths questions, anyway. It was utter child's play for the prodigy. But when he neared the end of the sheet, he had a problem. Did he tell the teacher that he was finished and earned the title of annoying kid who gave the class more work or did he keep his head down? Angelo decided to risk it and put up his hand.

"Um, madam?" Angelo asked. "What do you do if you are finished?" Maxwell's minions' mouths widened with shock at the moxie of the new alpha nerd.

"You can entertain yourself quietly. Read a book or something," she advised. Angelo nodded and got out the plans for his modified car. The amount of free time in which he spent tweaking the design and improving it could be described as overzealous, but the Italian teenager was a workaholic by habit. He cursed in Italian when he made a mistake and scrawled over it. He was generally ignored by the class, except for Melissa. She was interested in the workings of a genius. When the class was over, Angelo went to see Logan, since they would both be in the same history class. The teenagers smiled for a few seconds before they started talking animatedly about music and the most recent viral video. Angelo was really integrating into the world of normal teenagers. He was actually rather popular. No, insanely popular. His stunt he pulled at the Invention Convention had made him a legend, but he wasn't too high and mighty to no longer talk to his own boyfriend.

"Hey, leprechaun!" Angelo greeted. Logan blushed.

"I am not a leprechaun!" Logan complained.

"Sure you are. You're short and you have ginger hair," Angelo pointed out. "Next thing I'll be hearing is that you're Irish!"

"Actually, I'm half Irish," Logan clarified.

"I knew it! You're my leprechaun!" Angelo smiled, hugging Logan really tight. The redhead gasped for air and squirmed. Angelo released him quickly, terrified that he'd hurt his incredibly fragile boyfriend. "Sorry! I didn't hurt you, did I? Logan? Logan!"

"I'm not dead, you dork!" Logan sighed.

"Oh, that's great! I don't want to go to prison for manslaughter; I wouldn't survive!" Angelo babbled. Logan sighed, but still had a smile on his face.

"You're insane, man," Logan giggled. "You're a crazy genius, you know that?"

"Yeah, and it works out an awful lot," Angelo pointed out. "I've had plenty of practice with this sort of thing."

"Like what?" Logan asked. Angelo blushed. "Angelo?"

"I once got in trouble for hacking the school vending machines to give me free snacks," Angelo confessed.

"There's no way that was the only thing you did," Logan replied, grinning. "Did you do anything else while in that fancy private school?"

"Uhh . . . no, that was about it," Angelo lied. Logan chuckled.

"You sound like you're lying, Angelo," Logan grinned. "Don't make me force the truth out of you." Just when Logan sidled closer to Angelo, the bell rang.

"Oh, look, it's time for double history," Angelo pointed out. "Guess I can't tell you until lunch! Sorry!" Logan sighed as he followed the high-IQ maniac to class. They got there early and took their seats, and Angelo helped Logan with his notes. Damn, his leprechaun boyfriend was hot. He was about to kiss him when Miss Hollins entered the room with her notes for the class.

"Good to know that you came in early instead of being barely on time," Miss Hollins replied. "Hello, you two."

"Good day, madam," Angelo greeted. "Do we have homework to hand in?"

"No, Angelo, that's next lesson," Miss Hollins clarified. "You'll be doing an essay today." The couple groaned. Essays were always torture to the students. "I'll be sorting out essay starters for you." Logan and Angelo sighed and sucked it up. After people trickled in and went to their seats, the register was started and the alarm was officially raised - they were down a student. (Not that they were angry about it.)

"Hey, Moneybags isn't here!" Marcus announced. "Thank God for that! That guy's a massive pile of-"

"Marcus!" Miss Hollins snapped. "That is not appropriate behaviour for a classroom!"

"But he is!" Jay justified. "Right, guys?" People loudly agreed, and it wasn't long until someone asked Angelo.

"Hey, Angelo, you remember Maxwell, right?" a girl giggled. Angelo fixed her with a cold-eyed stare.

"Please, don't ever talk to me about that guy," Angelo told her. The class grew quiet. The girl, oblivious, tried asking around.

"What happened? Maxwell did something? Angelo did something?" she asked. Nobody would say a word.

"Guys, I think Maxwell's suspended," someone muttered.

"You think? Look at what he did!" their friend snapped, and the class began a lively discussion again. Miss Hollins smacked her hand onto the table. Once again, the class was silent.

"Class, we will be doing an essay today, and you'll be doing so in exam conditions so people get some work done," Miss Hollins explained. The class whined and complained. "Enough! It's open book, so it won't be that hard for you." They relaxed. This particular cloud did have a silver lining to it after all. Miss Hollins put some essay starters on the board regarding medicine around the world. "Now, you can start the essay starters in five minutes so everyone starts at the same time and after that, utter silence." People read the essay starters and felt sick. Open book or not, they were screwed. Angelo let out a small sigh. This was easy enough.

The essay was started and everyone got to work. Logan wished he could ask for Angelo's help as he struggled with explaining how the plague was spread. Even with the book, he had no idea how to handle writing an essay. They were never something he was good at. But he'd have to do it anyway. God knew not doing it would be worse. Coincidentally, so did Logan.

* * *

After a horrifically slow two hours, the essay was finished and the class was dismissed for lunch. "That test was horrible!" Logan groaned.

"I know!" Angelo groaned. Logan was in shock. "What?"

"You thought it was hard too?" Logan asked.

"Yeah. I know knowledge is important, but I'm worried about my exam technique. What if I lose marks because of how I word my answer?" Angelo asked.

"Wow. So I guess even you have something to worry about in this school," Logan remarked.

"Yeah, and although it's annoying, it's still way better than my last school," Angelo pointed out.

"Oh, great. A moment of humbling equality between two very different students," Logan snarked. "I wonder what else will be revealed to me today." As they went to a deserted lunch table, a joker kid went over to them and dumped the most recent copy of the local newspaper in front of them. It was from today.

"You made the news!" he laughed, as he ran away as fast as he could. Angelo picked it up and read it.

"Hey, Logan, look at this! It's a photo of everyone when I called them up on stage!" Angelo babbled. "Just look at it! 'STUDENTS IN LOCAL SECONDARY SCHOOL FORCED TO COMPETE IN INVENTION CONVENTION BY BENEFACTORS!' Now this is something I'm going to show my sister when she asks me what happened in the school's Invention Convention."

"Let me see!" Logan babbled, trying to look over Angelo's shoulder to see the article. Angelo sat him down and positioned the newspaper so they could both see. It read as follows:

* * *

**STUDENTS IN LOCAL SECONDARY SCHOOL FORCED TO COMPETE IN INVENTION CONVENTION BY BENEFACTORS!**

_Uproar amongst the local parents has been caused after it was revealed by a student that the Invention Convention that all students were ordered to submit something or face a month's worth of detention. Since we cannot name this student since they are under eighteen and have not given permission, we can only tell you what they did. In protest, the majority of the students who agreed to make an invention made ones that protested the whole idea of it, such is the exploding pen made by another student._

_As they presented their invention, the student (who we shall call X from now on) presented their invention to the judges, and their invention threw colourful glitter in their faces, sprayed them with a scent known as Liquid Ass, squirted paint all over them and threw arts and crafts feathers onto their soiled clothes, which stuck to them. Then they explained the terms and conditions of the Invention Convention as they heard it, conducted a survey amongst the students about their opinions, and excused themselves from the stage._

_"It's absolutely disgraceful that my child was forced into this," Anita Bath, told us. "How dare they withhold information like this from us, the parents? We deserve to know things like this."_

_"I plan on filing a complaint over this grievous mishandling," Mike Oxlong announced. "I can't believe my daughter was exploited so badly by the school's way of making themselves look good."_

_We tried to talk to the benefactors who funded the event, husband and wife duo Sean and Candi Norwood-Sykes, but neither of them wanted to answer our questions._

_The principal of the school, Mrs. Josephson, released a statement after the event that said: "We would like to apologize to anyone who feels offended by the Invention Convention. Nothing of this sort will ever happen again."_

* * *

"So, Maxwell's parents' names are Sean and Candi," Angelo murmured. "Interesting. Reminds me of the time we met." Logan choked on his sandwich.

"You met Maxwell's parents?" he blurted out. "Are you talking about that meeting in the headteacher's office?"

"No, this happened before that. It's a long story," Angelo explained. "When my brother came over, I took him and my little sister to the café you showed me when I first got here. We got there and got stuff to eat and talked while we waited for it, catching up and making up for lost time. We were in there minding our own business when Maxwell and his parents came in. I don't exactly know why and can only assume that they were minding their own business at the start, but Maxwell noticed me and introduced me to his parents as the inventor kid in his school. His mother started up with the small talk, and asked me how Maxwell was treated in school. They straight up told me that they lived in a mansion and Maxwell was the future of Norwood Furniture."

"They've gotten a lot bolder," Logan muttered.

"I agree," Angelo sighed. "I guess we know where Maxwell gets it from."

"Forget that guy," Logan sighed. "Wanna come over to my place? My mum won't be home until six."

"My parents will both be home, so I won't have to watch Mirella once I get home, so I'm in," Angelo replied. "You sure we're going to be alone?"

"Yeah," Logan smiled. "We'll be all alone, I promise." They grinned, daydreaming about what they could get up to over the course of three hours.

* * *

_Time skip: from lunchtime to 3:00 PM (the end of the school day)_

Logan had never been so nervous before. He'd been over to Angelo's house before, but it was different with his house. Angelo never had any shame about his house because there never was anything to be ashamed of. It was a nice house on a nice street. Logan did have something to be ashamed of. His house wasn't nearly as nice. It was small and poky, too embarrassing. Angelo could laugh in his face and ditch him there and then. It was nerve-wracking. He didn't want to, but he proposed the idea of letting Angelo hang out at his place, and he was taught by his mother to keep his word. "Where is it, Logan?" Angelo asked, looking around the slightly poorer side of town that he was now on. He expected to see a house that looked like his. He wouldn't be seeing anything like that with Logan.

"It's . . . um . . . " Logan was scared. He looked like he was going to be sick. There was litter and a few small piles of dog shit on the floor that he knew Angelo was trying to avoid. Angelo could tell that he was freaking out and knew it was his turn to comfort Logan.

"Logan, it's OK. Just because I went to a private school, it doesn't mean I'm going to freak out about a place like this," Angelo soothed. "I've seen worse."

"You have?" Logan asked.

"I used to live in a house kind of like this when I was little, but moved out when Mirella was born, since it was too small," Angelo explained. Logan felt better after that. He wasn't going to be teased by him, of all people.

"Come on in," Logan smiled, directing him to a house that looked slightly cleaner than the others around it. Angelo looked at it from the outside and felt thankful for the house he lived in now. Since his parents had the amount of money they needed to get themselves a better house, it had been better than before. They weren't cramped any more. They went inside to find a cramped, three bedroom apartment that didn't have enough room to swing a cat in. "It's not much, I know. Don't laugh."

"Don't be so embarrassed. It's not like you're homeless," Angelo smiled. Logan felt his confidence return. He was going to be just fine. "Come on, sweet little leprechaun. Don't be shy. I promise I'll look for some fool's gold and a lucky four-leaf clover for you."

"I'm not a leprechaun!" Logan whined. Angelo fought back laughter. "And stop laughing!"

"I'm not, I promise!" Angelo lied. Logan didn't believe him and started looking angrier. But this made him look even sillier, and Angelo burst out laughing. "I can't help it, Logan! You look so funny, I just can't believe it!"

"Angelo!" Logan yelled, as his boyfriend laughed hysterically. "Stop!"

"I can't help it, Logan, I really can- AAAAAAH!" Angelo yelled, as he walked backwards and slipped on an old advert for pizza. Now it was Logan's turn to laugh. "Oh, shut up! I could have broken my back from landing on it!"

"I can't help it, Angelo! You look so funny, I just can't believe it!" Logan taunted, as Angelo grew red.

"Logan, shut up!" Angelo told him.

"Make me!" Logan grinned. "Make me shut up, you big - WHOA! PUT ME DOWN! PUT ME DOWN!" Angelo had had enough of Logan's teasing and simply picked him up to freak him out. "PUT ME DOWN!"

"Let me think . . . no," Angelo grinned, as he held Logan tight in his arms. "This is pretty fun."

"For you, perhaps! Now let me go!" Logan snapped. Angelo was about to make another sarcastic comment, but then they heard a key twist in the lock and the door opened, and they froze. Caleb waltzed into the house with some takeout, whistling happily.

"Logan, where are . . . you?" Caleb trailed off when he saw Angelo holding up Logan. "What the fuck?"

"This is going to take a while to explain," Angelo muttered.

* * *

"So let me get this straight," Caleb sighed. "The new kid came to school and you were asked to show him around because you had a clean record. That you've told me. Since then, this kid that had become jealous that it wasn't him showing the new kid around because he showed the mayor around that one time exposed the fact that he was a genius to the whole school. A little while after that, you two confessed your love and subsequently became a couple. The same kid embarrassed you in front of the school with a photograph of you two kissing and promptly got excluded, and the new guy basically derailed the first and last Invention Convention the school has had."

"Yeah, that's basically it," Logan agreed.

"I'm so glad I don't go there any more," Caleb sighed. "I never thought you were the sort of person to get yourself embroiled in school drama, Logan."

"Maxwell started it. We had every intention of lying low and just being a couple," Angelo pointed out. "I never told him to search up my name and encourage other people to do the same, and I never told him to sneak out of one of his lessons to take a picture of us being dumb. I also never told him to start to apologize only to completely turn around and call Logan my ginger loser boyfriend in front of all our parents. I had to leave before I punched him."

"He called you that? That rich little shit, where is he?" Caleb asked, getting out of his seat.

"No. Beating the shit out of him won't help anyone," Angelo explained. "He'll probably make it worse for us once he gets back from his suspension. He's probably holed up in his parents' mansion, eating luxury teacakes or whatever rich people do with their spare time." Logan and Caleb forced down laughter. "What? That's probably what Maxwell spends all his spare time doing, anyway. Sitting there and ordering maids to fetch everything and change the channel on the TV for him and massage his tiny little feet for him. I can just imagine him screaming at some poor maid for not giving him enough mini brownies."

"You seriously think that Maxwell spends his spare time like that?" Caleb asked.

"Yeah. It wouldn't surprise me. His parents admitted that they lived in a mansion. They are filthy rich, rich enough for servants, anyway!" Angelo pointed out.

"The guy's got a point, you know," Logan admitted.

"How do I know that you're not saying that because he's your boyfriend?" Caleb asked. "Wait, what's your name, anyway?"

"Angelo Riva, resident smartass that's dating your brother," Angelo introduced. Caleb laughed and kept him in a tight headlock, choking Angelo.

"You're pretty cool, you know that?" Caleb grinned. "I would normally beat them to a pulp for getting close to him, but you seem OK. But don't pick him up like that. That's my job." He let go of Angelo by then.

"I told him to shut up and he said 'make me' so I decided to mess with him a little," Angelo pointed out.

"That was not what I meant when I said 'make me'," Logan groaned.

"Now I feel like an idiot," Angelo sighed.

"Good," Logan pouted.

"My brother and his boyfriend are the dorkiest two people of all time. You deserve each other," Caleb sighed. "I'm going to bed so I can hopefully forget that I saw my baby brother trying to get a guy that is easily six-feet tall to kiss him." Caleb left the room and went upstairs to his bedroom to sleep everything off.

"I'm not seriously six-feet tall, am I?" Angelo asked Logan. "Last time I checked, I was only five feet ten."

"I have a tape measure. Let's check again," Logan decided. He got out the tape measure, pressed it to the wall and made Angelo stand next to it. "Holy hell in a handbasket! You're six feet three!"

"I am?" Angelo asked. He took a look at the number closest to his head and freaked out. "Cool! I always thought that people this tall were freaking giants when I was a kid! Now I am one!"

"Is this normal for your family?" Logan asked.

"The men on my dad's side of the family are all roughly six feet tall and my grandpa was apparently seven feet tall or nearly there," Angelo pointed out. He shuffled closer to Logan as he talked, and the redhead inhaled a lungful of his boyfriend's cologne.

"I bet I can think of some things your grandparents never did. Bet they ever came home with hickeys on their necks?" He noticed that Angelo seemed nervous. The teen's eyes were fixed on him.

"I don't think they did," Angelo muttered. "What about yours, Logan?" Logan giggled and snuggled close to Angelo, allowing him to leave hickey after hickey on his neck.

"Mmph! More! Do that more!" he whined.

Angelo grinned and continued giving him all the hickeys he wanted. "You are such a cutie, you know that?" Logan nodded. "You want more of these?"

"Yes!" he purred. "Please, more!"

"Good," Angelo smiled, scooping Logan up for stronger kisses, which he returned, strong and fast. They stayed like that for hours, Angelo turning up the TV so nobody knew what was going on.

"Logan, you said your mother would be home by six, right?" Angelo eventually asked.

"Yes," Logan replied, sleepily.

"It's 6:10," Angelo replied.

"Oh, fuck!" Logan hissed, throwing a blanket over himself and turning the TV to an episode of Agatha Christie's Miss Marple just in time to look like two perfectly innocent teens watching a crime series on TV. Logan's mother walked in expecting to find them in the throes of a make-out session, but instead found them innocently watching a crime episode.

"Oh, hello!" Martha smiled, relieved to know that Logan and Angelo weren't getting up to anything they shouldn't be. Angelo looked over at her and smiled innocently. "And what brings you here?"

"Good afternoon, ma'am," Angelo smiled. "Logan wanted me to hang out with him at his house after school." Martha smiled.

"How sweet," Martha smiled. "Were you planning to spend it watching Agatha Christie?" Angelo blushed a little, but it went away.

"Logan said it was his favourite show and he wanted me to watch it with him," Angelo replied. Logan pinched him. It hurt, but he refused to squeal and give it away. Martha smiled at how sweet her son's boyfriend was.

"Oh, Logan, why didn't you tell me? I could have recorded a few episodes for you," Martha smiled. "How cute you two are!" Smiling happily, she waltzed away into the kitchen to make lunch for herself.

"What was that for?" Logan hissed.

"It was the first thing I could think of," Angelo blurted out. Logan glared at him. "Hehe . . . sorry, Logan." Logan was so mad at Angelo . . . and then he wasn't.

"I'm going to make sure you never do anything like this again," he told him. "You smug prick!" And with that, Logan started poking and prodding Angelo's tummy. The torture made the genius break like an egg.

"Hahahahahahahahaha! Logan!" Angelo whined, giggling hysterically as his sneak of a boyfriend poked and prodded at his torso. He weakened quickly and this allowed Logan to get on top of him and tickle him senseless.

"No, Angelo. You are mine now, all mine and I decide what to do with you," Logan smiled. He loved to torment Angelo whenever he got a little too smug. The redhead was about to look for something to tie him up with, but then Angelo's phone rang. Angelo had to answer it. It was his dad.

"Angelo, where are you? If you're not back by eight o'clock, I'm locking the door and you're sleeping outside," Bonaventura warned.

"I'll be home soon, Dad, I promise," Angelo swore.

"Good kid. I love you, _il mio piccolo inventore_ (1)," Bonaventura cooed, as he hung up. Angelo blushed madly, and Logan just had to know what that meant.

"Angelo, what did he say?" Logan asked. "What did your dad just call you?"

"He called me . . . he called me his little inventor in Italian," Angelo admitted.

"Aww, that's so cute," Logan cooed. Angelo scrambled upright and then got his stuff and quickly left. The resourceful redhead giggled as the inventor ran away.

* * *

Once he was home, Angelo was tasked with taking Pepsi for a walk and then helping Mirella with some homework. "Come on, Pepsi, we can't be out for long," Angelo sighed. "That is admittedly my own fault for not walking you earlier, but we've still got to get home pretty quick. Fetch, boy!" Pepsi was all to happy to play fetch with Angelo, even if they played all night long. He was pretty disappointed an hour later when they had to come back, though.

"Angelo, can you help me with these fractions?" Mirella asked. Angelo smiled, and went over to her.

"Sure, kid. So you multiply fractions by multiplying the numerators together and multiplying the denominators together," Angelo explained. He talked Mirella through the steps to answering the homework questions until eventually, she could do it on her own.

"I'm OK now, Angelo. Thank you," Mirella smiled. Angelo messed up her hair to annoy her and went to his room. He was exhausted. Once he had changed into a comfortable pair of pyjamas, he'd fallen asleep. He had nothing to worry about.

* * *

Maxwell was also at home. Not asleep in bed like Angelo was, but on his computer, doing research. As far as his parents were concerned, it was for a school project. But he was actually searching up the New Wave of Intellect, trying to find a way of communicating with them. He felt like a pioneering astronaut trying to send a message to aliens, an ambassador attempting to forge vital connections with another organization. He'd been searching the internet for a way to communicate with these higher beings, and he'd finally found it. An internet chatroom user called NWI was talking about the ways the leaders of the world were failing everyone and how the great minds of the day were nowhere to be found. It had to be them. Maxwell initiated the conversation.

 **Maxwell:** When you talk about the great minds of the day, what sort of people do you mean?

 **NWI:** Geniuses, specifically child prodigies that are still active and haven't burnt out.

 **Maxwell:** I think I can help you. I know a child prodigy that's still active and lives in the same town as me. He even goes to the same school as me.

 **NWI:** This is vital information. Can you give us his name?

 **Maxwell:** His name is Angelo Riva.

* * *

Translations

1: my little inventor. Italian.


	17. Paparazzi, gangs and AI

_Thursday, May 23rd_

* * *

Logan woke up on Thursday morning to a shock. The hickeys Angelo had left all over his neck were much more visible than he had thought and he needed to cover it up somehow. Nothing really worked, though, except for one. He groaned as he fished out a blue turtleneck that was a little too big for him. Logan would still have to roll up the sleeves in order for his hands to show, but it would have to do. Just before he left the house, his mother saw him. "Oh, Logan, you're wearing the jumper your Aunt Patricia gave you!" she gushed. "I'll need a photo of this! You look so sweet!" Before he could say yes or no, a phone was whipped out and at least five photos were taken. "Your Aunt Patricia's going to love this!" Sighing, Logan left for school. There was no way in hell that his day could be any more embarrassing.

When he walked to school, Angelo had to bite his tongue so he didn't laugh at his boyfriend. "What is that jumper for?" he asked. "And why is it so big?"

"This is the sort of thing I have to wear after you leave hickeys on my neck," Logan hissed. "Did you have to leave so many? My neck looks like a warzone."

"You weren't complaining about them when you were getting them, though," Angelo taunted. Logan blushed a dark shade of red. "You seemed to be loving it, weren't you?" Logan blushed madly as Angelo's hand rested on his back and started rubbing it. Logan could swear that his boyfriend's hand was getting lower, travelling towards his ass. But Angelo was too shy to do anything like that in public . . . right?

"Hello, lovebirds. Move along, why don't you?" Reuben snapped, trying to keep up the slack while Maxwell was gone. He had no idea just how bad Maxwell must have felt, alone at home, with nobody but servants for company, confined to the house so the school didn't think he was having fun when he was supposed to be suspended from school. He must have felt so angry at the couple for not allowing him to stay out of trouble, so he would want Reuben to do this . . . right?

But what he did was mean, and just expecting them to not tell someone about it was entitled and counted as outright bullying. The photo itself was clearly blackmail. And neither of them asked for it. Hell, maybe Angelo wasn't so bad . . .

This was crazy thinking! He should know better! He'd known Maxwell for so long, and he barely knew Angelo except for all the things that made him seem cool, like how he was a genius! It was so mean of him to side with an outsider over a loyal friend!

But was Maxwell really a loyal friend? He was mean to Reuben on many occasions, sometimes in front of others. He'd even slapped him!

As the broad brunette tried to get himself out of this mental quagmire, Angelo and Logan walked to tutorial together, hand in hand. Reuben glared at their retreating forms. Those little shits.

"Good morning, class," Miss Turrets greeted, glaring at the students under her control. She especially glared at Logan and Angelo. They were the worst ones of all. Logan ruined her favourite dress, and Angelo derailed the Invention Convention she was supposed to be presenting. That high IQ meant nothing when that kid was easily worse than any of the others. Angelo Riva was a genius, all right . . . an evil genius, to be exact. "Oh, it's you two."

"Good to see you too, miss," Angelo smiled, a charismatic smile on his face. Miss Turrets let out a sound that was almost like a snarl and continued on with registration.

"Well, I have a few notifications to give you about the running of the school," Miss Turrets continued. "First of all, the chess club is being discontinued due to lack of interest, along with the mathematics club . . . and the Invention Convention." After hearing that the Invention Convention was cancelled, people whooped and cheered.

"Finally! We got what we were asking for the entire time!" Angelo celebrated.

"Thank you, Angelo," Miss Turrets sighed. "Students must leave the school at the end of the day by going round the back instead of leaving the way most of you came in."

"What could possibly be waiting at the front of the school by the time 3:00 rolls around?" Logan asked.

"I don't know; I'm just the messenger," Miss Turrets pointed out. "This was something I was only just informed about myself."

"Let's find out at lunch," Angelo whispered, grinning. Logan grinned back.

"And to make sure nobody finds out about this at lunch by sneaking out of the school, the school gates will be locked up and nobody will be allowed out unless they are leaving early, and even then they will have to go round the back, " Miss Turrets replied, grinning cruelly. Students freaked out at the thought of being cooped up in school. Most of them went off site for lunch, so this was an unwelcome piece of news. The bell rang, and as the students were dismissed, complaints about the new policy could be heard up and down the school. Reuben shook the thought out of his head. He had to go to his PE lesson to go to, and maths after that. Wait, PE? This wouldn't end well. He had never been good at PE, with all its running and jumping and lifting.

"Hey, fatso! Where's your pervert friend?" Marcus asked.

"He's not a pervert!" Reuben snapped, making the other boys laugh mockingly.

"Don't start this with me. He hid in the library to take a photo of two people making out," Marcus pointed out. "That sounds like a pervert to me." Teenage boys nodded, and Reuben felt under attack. Angelo and Logan said nothing to help him.

"Maybe you're a pervert, too. Maybe you should leave before we find photos of us changing on the school website," Elijah said. A few of the bigger boys advanced towards the frightened fat boy, and Angelo just couldn't watch anymore.

"Stop! Just stop!" Angelo yelled. People stopped and stared at him. "He hasn't done anything! If you disagree with anything Maxwell has done, what good would it be to take it out on Reuben?"

"He has links to the biggest asshole this school has to offer!" Jay pointed out. "He hangs around with Maxwell, and that guy is, like, the rich man's version of my most recent shit!"

"But Reuben never did anything! There's no proof that he even knew what his friend did until it was too late! Let the guy go," Angelo pleaded. The boys sighed and retreated.

"You're lucky Angelo was here," Marcus told him. Reuben stared at Angelo in shock as the Italian got changed. Angelo noticed, looked him in the eyes for just a few seconds and jerked his head in the direction of a spare spot. Reuben hurriedly waddled away. Why was Angelo being nice? He'd been mean to him before; he had every reason to make Reuben's school life worse. But he didn't. This would need more investigation once he had some spare time on his hands.

"What was that for?" Logan asked. "That guy hates you."

"Letting him be beaten up is wrong," Angelo pointed out. "It's happened to me before when I was at Golden River Academy, and nobody stood up for me. I don't want that to happen to anyone, even if they were mean to me." Logan simply nodded and got changed. The boys changed in silence, thinking about what had just happened, but not saying anything more about it. They went into the gym and waited for Coach Hurley. The man arrived with a bunch of tires, timers and skipping ropes.

"All right, kids, cardio circuits today," he told them, and they groaned.

"My body is going to hate me for this," Angelo groaned.

"You get used to this," Logan told him. Angelo didn't look so sure. He eyed the equipment with worry. This wasn't going to be too bad . . . if he was lucky.

"All right, I'll be placing you in groups of four and there's thirty of you, so there should be two groups of seven and two groups of eight," Coach Hurley told them. "Come on, we only have two hours, not all day." Students sighed and split themselves up into groups, which soon let the coach realize that he had miscalculated. "We're missing a person. Who is it?"

"Maxwell's suspended," some kid blurted out. If Coach Hurley was surprised by that, he didn't show it.

"Fine. OK. Let's just go with that," he replied. "Come on." Angelo and Logan were split up into different groups, so Logan had to struggle with flipping tires that probably weighed the same as he did, while Angelo had to run up and down the gym while someone else timed him and wrote his time down. Both felt like they were going through utter torture. Two hours later, twenty-nine sweaty, tired teenagers with aching bodies went to get changed. Angelo took a quick shower because he felt sweaty and disgusting.

"All those in favour of renaming circuits to exercise-based torture, raise your hand," Logan groaned. Everyone present raised their hands. Angelo came out of the showers with a towel wrapped around his waist. Logan tried not to stare, but it was hard. He had a perfect set of abs and Logan was beginning to feel dizzy.

"Why are you so intent on calling it exercise-based torture? It's not like he's mean," Angelo pointed out, as he got changed.

"You went to a private school, man. I bet they were soft on you the whole time you were there. What would you know about torture?" Marcus scoffed. Angelo chuckled and whipped out his phone, going through his gallery. He eventually settled on a folder named "Golden River Academy". He opened it, clicked on a video and showed Marcus. The video went as follows:

* * *

Start video

_The video focuses on an outdoor playing field like the one they had at their own school. It was apparently filmed at a distance. A morbidly obese white man on a golf cart was apparently chasing a class of high school students around the playing field. "Run faster, you runts! My nanna can run faster than you and she's dead!" he screamed. "If I'm less than a metre away from you, you're all in detention, you hear me? Do you hear me?"_

_"Sir, yes, sir!" the boys yelled. Suddenly, the obese man turned his fat neck to look at the camera and screamed even more._

_"Angelo Riva! You'd better not be filming anything on that stupid phone of yours! If you are, I'll throw it into a sewer and throw you down with it!" the man screamed. "Are you filming?"_

_"Sir, no, sir!" Angelo could be heard stammering, before the video was abruptly stopped._

End video

* * *

The other kids stared at Angelo. "Who the hell was that?" Logan asked.

"Believe it or not, the PE teacher at my old private school," Angelo admitted. "I don't know how or why he was hired. He never did anything other than yell orders at us and sit in a golf cart eating donuts. I got a detention for asking him to show me how to do a push-up properly."

"That guy was the PE teacher? He's so fat, he needs two watches because he's in two different time zones!" a normally quiet kid laughed. From there, the fat jokes ensued.

"That guy is so fat, he can't wear a shirt with the letter H on it because the last time that happened, a helicopter landed on him!"

"He's so fat he has an eating disorder. He ate dis order, dat order, my order, and everyone else's orders too."

"He's so fat he's on both sides of the family!"

"He's so fat his Patronus is a cake!" Logan whispered to Angelo.

"He's so fat when he found a Boggart in his closet, it transformed into a diet plan!" Angelo whispered back.

"I didn't know you were a Harry Potter fan," Logan remarked.

"A guy's got to take a break from inventing sometime," Angelo pointed out.

"Did you go for the books or the movies first?" Logan inquired.

"I read the books first, then watched the movie."

"Same. The movie takes out chunks of the book, so I read it first to get the full picture." The conversation had shifted away from Angelo and onto his crazy old school, so nobody noticed when the couple slipped out.

"I have two free periods at the end of the day, so I basically leave at lunch, which is one lesson from now. What about you?" Angelo asked.

"The school picked me because I have the same free periods as you. I always leave at lunch on this day," Logan told him. The two left to go to an art lesson. Today, they would be creating a mood board of things present in their lives. The substitute teacher was Mr Daye. He was usually enthusiastic about the lessons he taught, but since this wasn't his subject, he couldn't care less.

"Print pictures off the school computer and stick them onto a A3 piece of paper. That is literally it," he droned, as he marked homework from his other classes. Angelo yawned as he searched for pictures of pizza and robots. Those were the only things he wanted to put on his mood board. He liked pizza and he made robots. But now he thought about it, he was in the middle of making a specialized car that could fly and drive itself, so he should probably put that on his mood board, too. And the awards he had won for his work were a part of him at this point, so it would make sense to include them, too. It occurred to Angelo that he had a lot more work to do than he'd originally thought. He approached the apathetic, misplaced I.T teacher with a question that was more in his field.

"Sir, could you tell me about the school website and how it was made?" Angelo asked. He could tell that this question made Mr Daye light up like a Christmas tree and he started animatedly talking about the coding that was used.

"The school website actually uses a rather basic HTML programming language, and hasn't been updated in quite a while," Mr Daye informed. "It makes it quite hard to make edits and delete things from the website, which is annoying."

"But I heard that it was designed to be that way so the students using the website would get the message that what they post on the internet is permanent," Angelo replied, very confused.

"They lied to you. They're a big, stinking liar," Mr Daye told him, in no uncertain terms. "Who did tell you that, by the way?"

"Mrs Josephson did," Angelo said, smiling innocently as the teacher turned white. He had no idea that the person telling such lies was his boss. And he'd told a student that they were a liar. If Angelo went running to Mrs Josephson and telling her what he'd told him, then there would one less I.T teacher employed at the school. "I'm not telling her what you said, though. You didn't know who I was talking about."

"Ah, good," Mr Daye sighed. Angelo gave him a curt nod and went back to his seat, secretly fuming. Mrs Josephson, who he had trusted, had lied to his parents, lied to his boyfriend, and lied to him. He refused to tolerate such a thing, and when you find something about the world you live in that you can't tolerate the way it is, you change it. That was what Angelo was going to do.

The robotics prodigy spent the rest of the lesson cutting out and sticking in pictures with a pissed off look on his face. Logan noticed it, but said nothing until the bell went and they could finally leave, linking hands as they went. "What is up with you?" Logan asked. "You seemed mad earlier. Did I do something to piss you off?"

"It's not you. It's the school website. They lied to us," Angelo told him. "I talked to Mr Daye about the coding the school website used, and he said that it hadn't been updated in a while, so it was harder to make edits and delete stuff. Mrs Josephson told us that it was a design flaw. She lied to us and our parents, right to our faces!"

"So she has an excuse to not tell Maxwell to delete the photo because it's just how the website works?" Logan inquired, joining up the dots. "That's low."

"I know, and it's got to be fixed somehow," Angelo sighed. "Do you know where I can find the school's number?"

"Uh . . . on the website?" Logan asked. Angelo sighed.

"Of course it's there," the prodigy sighed. "You want to hang out at my place?"

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Logan asked.

"No, I don't think so," Angelo denied, racking his memory for anything he may have forgotten.

"Well, you said you wanted to check what the school was trying to hide about the front of the school," Logan reminded. Angelo grinned.

"How do you make a loop round and find out?" Angelo asked.

"Come with me, robot boy," Logan taunted, leading him towards the front of the school. Angelo blushed. Logan wasn't usually very commanding . . . but he liked this. They walked through a dirt path through a children's park, and when they got to the front of the school, they got a shock. A multitude of reporters stood outside, waiting for someone to answer their many questions.

"Have you ever seen so many reporters in one place?" Logan hissed.

"Yes," Angelo replied. "A bunch of them surrounded my house when my school told them I was a genius." He remembered his parents telling him and Santo to stay inside and wait for them to go away as cameras flashed and a man pushed his business card through the letter box. He remembered being utterly terrified. "Just be quiet and they won't notice us."

"OK," Logan whispered, as they crept away, tiptoeing to safety. It was going well, better than Angelo had dared hope. As they slunk away from the army of paparazzi, they came across their all-time nemesis.

Maxwell Norwood-Sykes.

He had gotten out of his house (somehow) and was spying on the school and the people in it. He gave Angelo and Logan the stink eye from a distance. Angelo rolled his eyes and continued forward. It was all very confusing to Maxwell. What were they doing?

"What is wrong with you two?" Maxwell asked, at normal speaking volume.

"Mind your own business," Logan snapped. "And keep it down!" Then Maxwell understood what they were trying to do, and deliberately sabotaged it. He was the one who raised the alarm to the reporters.

"HEY! MEDIA PEOPLE WITH CAMERAS! THERE'S ANGELO RIVA, THE GENIUS KID! HE'S THE GUY THAT RUINED THE INVENTION CONVENTION! ASK HIM WHATEVER YOU WANT!" Maxwell yelled. The reporters looked at Maxwell, then at Angelo and Logan, who knew in that moment that they were screwed.

And then the media descended upon them like vultures.

"Angelo Riva? Would you like to answer a few questions?" a male reporter asked.

"Don't have time, sorry!" Angelo yelped, running away with Logan in tow. "I have never wanted to go home more! Logan, let's go to my place and hide out!"

"Fine!" Logan agreed, running. They ran through the streets, dodging pedestrians, lamp posts and the occasional wheelchair user to get away from the reporters. The media crews had a hard time keeping up with two teenagers that had youth on their side.

"Mr Riva, we just want to ask you a few questions!" a woman yelled.

"And I just want to go home!" Angelo yelled, as he dodged a rubbish bin. "Logan, where are you?"

"Right here, Angelo!" Logan replied. "Why are we here? You said we'd be going to your house!"

"I know! But they'll have to go away in 3 . . . 2 . . . 1!" Angelo counted down on his fingers. On cue, a mob of angry pedestrians started pulling the reporters back.

"You made my little girl cry!" an angry mother yelled, gesturing to a sobbing girl who couldn't have been more than three. "Apologize to my little Abigail this instant!"

"You knocked my coffee out of my hand! I demand a new coffee from you!" an old man snapped. More people came out of the woodwork to complain about the reporters, who, by this point, felt confused, overwhelmed and embarrassed. One reporter tried to explain, but made everything worse.

"Well, you see, ladies and gentlemen, I know this happened, but we were trying to talk to the two teenage boys over there," he rationalized, pointing to the teenagers . . . or at least, where they had once been. "Where'd they go?"

"The poor dears must have been trying to get away from you! Stalking teenagers! You could go to jail for that!" an old lady using a Zimmer frame yelled, and the chaos developed from there. Meanwhile, Angelo and Logan were in Angelo's house, laughing about their escape from the reporters.

"That was incredible!" Logan laughed. Angelo was still getting his breath back. "Angelo, you're a genius!"

"That was established when I was five years old, but thanks." Logan sidled over to him and poked his side. "Hey!"

"It seems you're getting a little too cocky," Logan chided. "Perfect time for me to pick up where I left off yesterday." He found the adorable sweet spot on his tummy that made him squeal, and continued to poke and prod it until Angelo was a hysterical, giggling mess, pleading with Logan to stop. The redhead had latched onto him and refused to let go either for love or money. This was unbearable.

"Lohohohohogahahahahan, no mohohohohore!" Angelo giggled, squirming as much as his weakening body would allow. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because you're getting a little too cocky these days," Logan told him. "I don't like it when you're cocky, you know." Angelo tried to squirm away, but Logan placed a hand on his shoulder. "Stay there, Angelo." The commanding tone was enough to make Angelo settle down, despite his wishes to leave and make it stop. Logan grinned. He had the perfect plaything to tease and flirt with, in the form of a muscled genius who was still the shy, nerdy kid inside. That was what most people didn't see. Angelo was adorably sweet, but the moment he had to be, he would defend what he loved. They said Italians had a temper, and Logan had seen a little bit of it in the meeting with the headmistress. He doubted he would be able to see the rest of the apparently famous Italian temper unless it was something big. But he didn't have to worry about that. He just wanted to make Angelo Riva squirm. And he had plenty of time to do that.

As he really focused on making Angelo howl and beg with laughter, they were interrupted by loud beeping, almost like an alarm. MAIA had sensed the increase in heart rate and thought something was wrong. "Is everything all right, Angelo? I sensed an elevated heart rate, indicating that you were in trouble."

"No, MAIA, we were just playing," Logan explained. Angelo blushed a little. "I wanted to see how ticklish Angelo was, and it turns out that he really can't take it." Angelo had never been so red in the entire time Logan had known him. It was so cute. Seeing Angelo looking so shy made Logan want to jump on him and kiss him senseless.

"There's nothing to worry about, MAIA," Angelo replied. That confirmed everything for the sentient program, who then turned itself off. Angelo blushed a dark shade of red, while Logan started snuggling next to him. Angelo smiled and started snuggling next to him, glad to have some sort of respite. He let out a ticklish squeal when his boyfriend's hands snaked upwards to his armpits.

"Now, where was I?" he whispered, before jumping on Angelo and making him scream with laughter. Angelo wouldn't be getting a break for quite a while.

* * *

Meanwhile, at home, Maxwell was communicating with the New Wave of Intellect.

"Angelo Riva, you are going down!" Maxwell muttered, as he crammed another muffin into his mouth. Miniscule crumbs spilled out of his mouth and got stuck inside the keyboard of his laptop, but he either didn't notice or didn't care. He rubbed his stomach, which had gone from being concave to spilling out over his trousers and peeking out of his shirts. It was a decent pot belly by this point, but the heir to a veritable furniture fortune didn't give half a damn about it. Angelo Riva had gone from being a mild threat to his place as the school smart kid (at least, in his mind) to outright taking it from him. And after the Invention Convention scandal, the adolescent inventor was a living legend, while he was a laughingstock, a joke. This had to stop. If Angelo left, Maxwell could go back to being the smart kid that would eventually rule the school using his superior intellect to make better decisions. He eyed his phone with malicious joy. Just before he got the attention of the reporters, he took a much better photo of Angelo (without the flash this time, and without Logan in it). He'd sent the photo to his laptop, and now it was in the hands (or at least, the email inbox) of an anti government gang. There was a missed message from them.

 **NWI:** Could you get us a photo of him?

 _(_ **Maxwell** _sent an attachment.)_

The response to this was immediate.

 **NWI:** Where did you get this photo?

 **Maxwell:** I took it today.

 **NWI:** And you're sure that he's living in your town?

 **Maxwell:** Here's the address of his school, in Willowdale. (In the chatroom exchange, he attached a newsletter from the school, which always contained the address of the school.)

 **NWI:** Thank you, Maxwell. You've been very helpful. I'm sure this will help our plans a lot.

 **NWI:** We'll be contacting your clever friend soon.

 _(_ **NWI** _has left the chat.)_

Maxwell stared at the screen in a state of shock. It hadn't yet dawned on him what had just happened. Then, he realized what had happened and he whooped. Angelo Riva, the bane of his life, a persistent thorn in his side, would soon be going far away and, if he was lucky, never coming back. He celebrated by running around the house cheering like a madman. His mother even pulled herself away from her beloved soap to see what was going on.

"What are you doing?" she snapped, with a green face mask and cucumber slices in her hands (that she had taken off her eyes). "You sound like a crazy person."

"I just got some really good news!" Maxwell whooped. "A kid I don't like is leaving!"

"Oh, whatever," his mother huffed, going back to her drama series. Maxwell went back to celebrating. His life would be so much better once Angelo was gone. He was sure of it.


	18. Kidnapped

_Time skip: from Friday, May 23rd to Monday, May 26th_

* * *

Now his suspension was finally over, Maxwell arrived at the school with only Reuben by his side. His reputation now was that of a moronic, perverted bully, and so he was treated as such. People actively avoided him and whispered about him behind his back. Well, it was supposed to be behind his back, but Maxwell heard most of it.

"That's him!" a girl whispered, pulling her friend back. Maxwell glared at her, and they scattered like a flock of startled pigeons.

"I heard the guy only got out of being expelled because of his rich parents."

"I heard Angelo's parents want to take it to court and sue Maxwell's parents for harassing their son."

"Did you see him at the Invention Convention? I heard he ruined a phone and asked the audience if anyone there knew how to restore phones! What a loser!"

"He crept around the library to spy on people kissing! Stalker pervert creep."

"Stay away from Maxwell. He's . . . the wrong sort."

The last remark stung. The wrong sort. He'd said that to Angelo about Logan after his first few days at the school. To hear the same thing about him hurt . . . a lot. He was supposed to be the right sort. He was the rich only son of two popular socialites who hosted lavish parties over the holidays with the mayor and all his friends and donated money to the local school and animal charities. How was he the wrong sort? The blond boy shook the thought out of his head when it came time for him to be registered. He was greeted by hostile classmates and one apathetic genius.

"Oh, it's you," Melissa huffed. That basically set the tone for Maxwell. He quietly went to look for two seats for him and Reuben. Reuben's spot hadn't been taken up, but there was nowhere for Maxwell to sit, except for one spot at the front near a window that was always kept open. The very worst spot in the whole room. The thing was, that window always let a foul stench of rotting meat waft next to the person seated in that dreaded window seat. To sit there was a sign that he had gotten the lowest he could go socially. Angelo had his back to him, not looking at him once. Maxwell hated him, and then he remembered that he would be going away very soon and grinned evilly. Miss Turrets went through the register in her usual uninterested manner, and Maxwell couldn't help but feel as if everyone hated him. He decided to go through to the one person who may have been able to explain things: Angelo Riva. As much as he hated the genius, maybe he would be able to explain some things to him. But there was a problem. He couldn't get near Angelo for love or money. People surrounded Angelo whenever Maxwell got even slightly close to him. These morons were protecting him! And what for? It's not like it would help them.

"Get away. I need to talk to Angelo," Maxwell snapped, waving his hand the way he'd seen his mother do with 'the hired help'. They didn't budge. "Didn't you hear me? There's something I need to do."

"Haven't you done enough?" one girl muttered, smacking the back of Maxwell's head as she walked away to wherever she needed to be. Small acts of violence like that aimed at Maxwell occurred throughout the day. An elbow to the ribs as he left. Tripped in the hallway on the way to chemistry. (He didn't faceplant onto the floor, but had to lean on some lockers for stability.) Wait: chemistry! None of those overprotective losers would be there and he could talk to Angelo. But the teacher stepped in and ruined everything.

"Angelo, you move to the spare seat at the front. Maxwell, I'll need you to move to the seat in front of me," the teacher instructed. Maxwell's jaw dropped. He was being separated from his friends like he was a bratty troublemaker. He didn't deserve this. But when he gave his friends one last, longing look, they didn't meet his eyes. His last few friends, the people he occasionally sat with at lunch and made snarky comments to about other students, were treating him like he was just another loser.

He _was_ just another loser. It hit him like a slap to the face. He, Maxwell Lacey Norwood-Sykes, was a complete loser. The feeling only got worse when he saw his friends (ex-friends now) trying to suck up to Angelo, who wasn't buying it. That was the fatal flaw to his friend group: the fact that they would latch onto the most influential person there. That used to be him. Now Maxwell had no status to speak of, Angelo was their new king. The bullying brat tried to forget about it, drowning his hurt feelings and bruised ego in a sheet of equations.

* * *

At break, Maxwell searched for Angelo. He found him outside eagerly telling other shocked kids about his old private school experience. These kids had never left their small town, and they were addicted to the stories of the boy that had been to an exclusive private school and had the videos and photos to prove it. Everything Angelo had ever recorded or taken a photo of was gold dust. "Show me the one about the nerds again!" one kid begged. Angelo went through his phone for them, looking like a god amongst men. This wouldn't last long, which almost consoled Maxwell. Almost.

"Uh, Angelo, I need to talk to you. Can we go somewhere alone?" Maxwell asked. People glared at him and made a move to beat him up or at least get him away from Angelo.

"No. I'm not going anywhere alone with you. Say what you want right here and now and then leave me alone. But if you insult me, or Logan, or anyone else here, I will personally escort you out of here." Angelo gave Maxwell an icy, dead stare that made everyone's blood turn cold. The shorter blond boy gulped.

"Why is everyone being so rude today? People are being horrible to me and I think you have something to do with it!" Maxwell snapped.

"Maxwell, that's a serious accusation. What's your proof?" Angelo asked.

"I go away for three days and when I get back, people are trying to trip me up and the teachers won't let me near you! What did you do?" Maxwell growled, trying to get in Angelo's face. This didn't work the way he thought it would, since he was over a foot shorter and a lot lighter (although the second disadvantage, at least, was changing). What it basically looked like was a slightly chubby, very short boy was squaring up to a guy that was around six feet tall and was solid muscle. Overall, a very unfair match-up.

"How is this my fault that people don't like you? I thought this had been going on since before I even got here," Angelo pointed out. People roared with laughter.

"You shut up, robot boy! Why don't you cry into some bundles of money? Oh wait, I forgot: you can't have it until you turn 18! You've got another two years, at least!" Maxwell screamed. People looked at Angelo, and he looked so angry. His face had turned pale save for two bright red spots on his cheeks, and the very back of his green eyes had a fire lit behind them.

"Maxwell, what did you just say?" Angelo hissed. Maxwell turned pale. His knees felt weak.

"I just w-wanted to tell people about how you're actually richer than me, since this car company is paying you for your eco-friendly car design," Maxwell stammered.

"That's the thing, though. You always seem to be telling people things about me. You started off by convincing a couple of other kids to search up my name, and then everyone knew that I was a genius inventor before the age of 20. Then you posted a picture of me making out with Logan, and then everyone knew that we were a couple. And literally just now, you told everyone that I'm rich because of a deal with a car company I made when I was 10! Why do you think finding stuff out about me and then telling other people is a good idea? You don't sound cool! You sound like a creep and a stalker!" People whooped and applauded. "Look, Maxwell, why did you pick me to obsess over? You could have picked anyone to stalk and torment and yet you chose me. So, why did you choose me?"

"You chose Logan over me to show you around! He's the wrong sort! He lives on the east side of town!" Maxwell screamed. Laughter didn't echo around the park this time. People just glared at him for being a snob. Logan wasn't the only one who lived on the east side of town.

"So you're better than Logan because of something that's out of his control? Wow, I'm so glad I chose him over you. You're an asshole," Angelo huffed. People whooped louder. "And I suspect you should check why you were suspended: for cyber bullying and harassment. That is low and after hearing something like that, don't be surprised when there are people who don't like you afterwards. You posted it to the school website under your own name that people saw, just so that my life and Logan's life would be hell."

"You didn't have to tell Mrs Josephson about it!" Maxwell screamed. "You and your ginger loser boyfriend could have just been good sports about it and let it go!"

"Oh, that is it, you creep!" The incensed Italian intellect had utter rage in his eyes. "How dare you tell me to just be a good sport about it? You want me to be upbeat and forgiving as you strip me of my privacy, as you use parts of my identity to bully me all the time I have been at this school? None of the things you have, quote unquote, 'exposed' me for are things that I ought to be ashamed of in the first place. I don't need to be ashamed of being a child genius and carrying that over into my teenage years. I don't need to be ashamed of dating a redheaded king. And I don't need to be ashamed of having a wage that started when I was a dorky, awkward preteen! Speaking of that wage, by the time I'm eighteen and can finally access it, I'll be richer than your whole family and it won't be because of my parents! It'll be all my own work! So take that, Maxwell Lacey Norwood-Sykes!" People whooped, applauded and laughed at Maxwell. "I'm sure that you can see yourself out, Maxwell." Angelo pointed towards the door.

"Fine! You'll regret this!" Maxwell huffed as he left to the library. That was the only place he could go that was safe for nerds like him. As he sat in the corner of the library, searching for a book, he saw three of his old friends talk amongst themselves happily. Now Angelo wasn't there, he could take his rightful place as their leader. Just as he was about to pull up a chair, his second-in-command stopped him. Courtney, another major nerd that had assisted Maxwell in taunting Angelo in his first history lesson, refused to allow Maxwell to sit with them.

"You'll have to find someone else to sit with," Courtney told him, in no uncertain terms. Maxwell was taken aback. He was basically their leader. Before him, they were loners who were picked on, but now they were a squad, a team! Together, they were untouchable! How dare they defy him!

"What? Why?" Maxwell spluttered.

"Look, Maxwell, we can't be seen with you any more. Having you around would be bad for our image," a nerdy girl called Dana, the only girl in the group, explained.

"How?" the rich nerd inquired.

"You've been sent out of your classes, you've begun to argue with your classmates, you were suspended for three days for bullying and don't get me started on the Invention Convention. You were the laughingstock of the school and people are still talking about it now. If you're going to be one of us, then you'll have to have a clean record. We're the intelligent kids the teachers use as examples to the rest of the school, and you're not that example any more," Winston, a tall, awkward and clumsy boy bluntly told him as he pushed his constantly slipping glasses further up his nose.

"I can't believe you," Maxwell growled. "When the going gets tough, you really find out who your friends are, don't you?"

"I'm sorry, Maxwell, but that's just how things work," Courtney sighed. Maxwell resisted the urge to scream as he stomped out of the library. His only place of refuge had been stripped from him, and it was all Angelo's fault. His mind slowly became undone with pure jealousy with Angelo Riva (unknowingly) at the centre.

 _Those New Wave of Intellect had better come for Angelo soon,_ Maxwell thought, thinking back to earlier that day in the park. _I can't possibly deal with him for another day._

* * *

During a double dose of I.T, Logan asked Angelo a few questions about his past. Angelo kept secrets from him, and he wanted to know more about the genius he was currently dating. "You made a deal with a car company when you were . . . how old?" Logan asked.

"I was ten, OK? And I've been getting a steady wage from it once a year ever since," Angelo explained. "I didn't tell anyone because I didn't want to be judged for it and I didn't want to sound like a brat. You get judged a lot when you're rich. I was also worried about someone only dating me because I was going to come into money when I was older. I heard a couple of girls in my old school chatting about which guys were the most eligible and one girl rejected a guy because she thought he was dorky. Then her friend told her 'Oh, give him a chance! He's rich, you know!' Then they continued to talk about boys. The idea that a girl would only look twice at a guy if he was wealthy freaked me out."

"You could have told me. I know you've not had a normal life and you come to school with a modified watch, so nothing really surprises me about you any more."

"Modified? Logan, I have an artificially intelligent robot based in there! Modified doesn't begin to cover it!" Angelo couldn't hold it anymore, and started laughing. It was a loud room, so nobody really noticed. Maxwell, who had been forced to sit on the other side of the room to them, grinned sadistically at the thought of Angelo's happiness being cut short. He wouldn't be laughing like that for long. Once the New Wave of Intellect was done with Angelo Riva, he would wish that he had treated Maxwell better. But by then, it would be too late and he would be in an abandoned warehouse or secret hideout or a house in the countryside, just somewhere far away from his family and Logan and all of his adoring, dumb fans. It would be magnificent, it would be glorious, it-

"Maxwell, stop daydreaming in my class," Mr Daye replied.

"Yes, sir," Maxwell sighed, glaring at the people who dared to giggle. They had no idea what he was capable of.

"Maxwell's really going nuts, isn't he?" Angelo remarked.

"I've never seen him like this before. He used to be so snobby and stuck up," Logan muttered.

"He still is snobby and stuck up," his boyfriend pointed out.

"Yeah, but he used to be snobby and stuck up in a quiet, smug way. Now he's obnoxious about it and using it in a last-ditch attempt to make him look better."

"You've got a point there," Angelo admitted. "He's clutching at straws." With that, the couple got back to work, and Maxwell tried to get on with his. It wasn't easy, since the room was loud and he could never really focus. When the bell rang for lunch, Maxwell faced a problem. He couldn't go and eat in the canteen (not that he ever did, but now it was an even worse option because the whole school hated him) but he never had a packed lunch with him. Where was he supposed to spend his lunch money? Nervously, Maxwell went looking for a new place to eat. Somewhere nobody else went. He slipped out of school and went looking for it. Nothing really interested him . . . until he stopped near a small local bakery.

Maxwell had somehow, despite being born in the small town, never seen the small bakery in his life. But now it was a godsend, a miracle that had popped up out of nowhere just for him. He tentatively walked in and thought about what to pick. Everything looked delicious. He had already picked out a sausage roll and was inwardly debating whether to have a jam-filled or chocolate-filled doughnut for dessert when the cashier came in.

"How can I help you?" they asked. They kept their short blue hair in a hairnet and wore an apron that obscured most of their clothing. Their nametag simply read 'Charlie'.

"Just scan these," Maxwell hurriedly blurted out, thrusting the chosen baked goods at them. Charlie didn't say anything about it and just punched a few codes into the register.

"That'll be £3.20." Maxwell handed over some spare change that covered the cost of his food, and then sat down to eat it. The food made him feel better after the bullying and hostile treatment he (felt he) received from his peers, both in and out of school. He just tried to focus on how when they were adults, the people who had bullied him in school would beg for a chance to shine his shoes and answer calls for him. At least, that was how it always happened in movies. The nerdy kid got bullied by everyone, and after they got out of school, they would be more attractive and very successful and the bullies would . . . not. He was obviously the nerdy kid, and Angelo and Logan and all their friends were the bullies that would end up working for him eventually. But Angelo would be worth at least £32 million once he hit 18, so maybe the movies weren't true. But they happened in real life, too. It had to be true. This was the story he would be telling when he was older to his friends, family, in-laws, wife, maybe even kids and grandkids.

The clock on the wall chimed, and Maxwell jumped. He checked the time, and he was late. Very late. He raced over to the school, but he was too late to stop himself from getting a detention from the cruel and callous Miss Turrets.

"Maxwell, you're late. Stay behind so you can receive your detention," Miss Turrets announced. Maxwell shrank with shame. This wasn't supposed to be happening to him. He was supposed to be the model student, the example to the rest of the class. Detentions weren't supposed to be happening. Everything in his life seemed to be going wrong.

"Yes, ma'am," Maxwell sighed, resignedly. He glared at Angelo and Logan, who were giggling as they whispered jokes to one another. That wouldn't be going on for much longer.

* * *

At the end of the day, Angelo and Logan hung out in the pizza place that Logan had introduced him to, eating mini pizzas and laughing together. "You didn't!" Logan laughed. Angelo nodded, laughing a lot himself.

"Of course I did! Just who do you take me for?" Angelo asked. "I waited for this girl to steal my invention designs and gave her the blueprint for a solar-powered flashlight. She looked so dumb!"

"Angelo, you have one hell of a mean streak," Logan purred, kissing him. Angelo kissed him back. An old couple looked at them with disgust, but they didn't care. They were lost in physical desire . . . until it was ripped away from them.

"Everybody freeze!" a man in a white mask and all black clothing yelled, making everyone stare at him. There was nothing really startling about him at first glance, and a few people were about to go back to whatever they were doing before . . . until the man pulled a gun out of the back of his black tracksuit trousers. "I SAID FREEZE!" People screamed. "Phones on the table now! As long as you do what I say, nobody gets hurt!" People rapidly pulled phones out and placed them in front of them. Logan and Angelo did so with their own phones. As they sidled closer together for comfort, the armed intruder took a close look at them. An eerily close look. He checked a piece of paper before looking at Angelo again. "You. Kid with the black hair. What's your name?"

"A-Angelo Riva," Angelo stammered, The man grinned at him. It wasn't a mischievous grin, or the grin you had when you heard a funny joke. It was a cruel grin found on a person with horrible ideas in their heads.

"So we've finally found you. This is perfect," he whispered, his mouth twisting upwards into a devious smile. He then leaned out of the shop and shouted, "Boys! We've got him!" Two other men, both of them wearing all black clothes and white theatre masks, marched into the humble pizza place and dragged Angelo away. The prodigy fought it the whole way, kicking and screaming.

"Logan! Give my phone to my parents! Don't panic! I love you!" he yelled, as he was shoved into the back of a black van. Meanwhile, the piece of paper one of the kidnappers had been consulting fell to the floor, forgotten.

"I love you too!" Logan yelled back. The first man to barge into the shop got out some black spray paint and sprayed the initials N.W.I onto the once pristine white walls.

"We are the New Wave of Intellect, and we intend to fight the real enemies in society," the first man announced, as he walked out of the restaurant and got into the driver's seat of the same black van that had Angelo inside. The ominous van screeched away, and slowly, very slowly, people recovered. Phones were grabbed off the tables to call the police. The cashier went into the back to either get security camera footage or also call the police. The shocked boy clutched Angelo's phone like a baby clutching a comfort blanket and waited for the police to come. He was numb, on autopilot.

A police car drove up to them, sirens wailing. The door opened and a rather portly man got out wearing a police uniform and (for some reason) shades. "My name is Officer Woods. What's happened here?" he asked, glancing at the hastily scrawled initials on the wall. "Just some vandalism?"

"Kidnap!" Logan blurted out, and just as he said the word, all his emotions bubbled up and he bawled. Tears flowed out of his eyes. "A boy's been kidnapped!" Officer Woods' eyebrows shot up almost to his hairline. A kidnapping? That never happened here. This was a boring, small town where nothing ever happened.

"What was the victim's name?" Officer Woods asked. He tried to get an answer out of Logan, but he'd broken down completely.

"I heard something like Angel River," the cashier offered. Logan let out a sob as he heard his boyfriend's name being butchered. He grabbed a pen and wrote down 'Angelo Riva' on a nearby serviette. He wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his hoodie as he handed it to the officer.

"What am I going to do with a napkin?" he asked. Logan pointed to Angelo's name. "Oh, his name! An-ge-lo Ri-va. Good work, kid!" Logan felt like he'd done something right, but then was hit with a horrible realization. Angelo's parents would need to know that their son was gone. But how could he tell them? How do you tell a parent that their child has been kidnapped?

"Do you have any way of contacting them?" the portly police officer asked. "They need to know what's happened here."

"I know where they live," Logan blurted out. "Ebony Avenue. But I don't know the house number."

"We'll go from door-to-door until we find them," Officer Woods reassured. Logan nodded. "Would anyone else like to give a statement?"

"I can't give a statement!" the old lady blurted out. "I'll be under far too much stress from it all!"

"Ma'am, a boy's been kidnapped. I need as many witness statements as I can get," Officer Woods reasoned.

"Sir, I have security camera footage that you might find useful," the cashier chimed in. The police officer turned to her with a grateful look in his eye.

"Miss, would you be willing to turn that in as evidence?" Officer Woods asked. She nodded, and went into the back to retrieve it. While she was gone, the hefty officer noticed a scrap of paper on the floor. He picked it up with the serviette Logan had given him and realized that it was a photograph of the victim, no less. "That is now evidence. Points to the kidnapping being premeditated."

"I'll give evidence," the elderly man with the old lady, presumably her husband, volunteered.

"So will I!" a young woman agreed. She had a stroller with a (miraculously) sleeping baby.

"I'll fill out a report if you want," Logan offered. Woods now had three witness reports under his belt. Not bad for a day's work, even if it wasn't exactly a normal day. The last murder that had occurred wasn't in living memory. Kidnappings just weren't supposed to happen.

"I'll give you a few minutes to make any phone calls before coming with me to the station," Officer Woods replied, as he stepped out. With shaking hands, Logan picked up his phone to call his mother, placing Angelo's phone in his pocket.

"Mum? I'm going to be coming home a little late," Logan admitted. He was reluctant to talk about what had happened. His mother wasn't initially worried; just curious.

"Oh, what's happening?" she prodded.

"I have to give a statement to the police. Something's happened with Angelo."

"What did he do?"

"Nothing! It's . . ." Remembering the kidnapping made Logan tear up, and he broke down.

"Sweetie, what happened? Are you OK? Is Angelo OK?" There was worry in her voice.

"Angelo's gone! Men came in and they put him in a van and one of them had a gun and they made him leave his phone behind so he couldn't call anyone and I think I'll never see him again!" Logan babbled. "I have to go to the station to make a statement. I'll be back in maybe a few hours." With a sob, he hung up on his mother, and went with the old man and the mother in the police car. The sirens, once turned on, were now off, and they were driven to the police station in silence. The door was opened for them and they walked into the police station. They were put into three different rooms and given blank witness statement documents.

"There you go," Officer Woods blankly stated, giving Logan a sheaf of blank documents. "I need you to write down everything you remember, no matter how small it seems." Logan barely nodded, before taking his pen and writing down everything he saw and heard at the pizza place. Big, fat, wet tears plopped onto the paper and smudged a few of the words. He simply wrote over it, crying madly. It was the most heart-wrenching thing he'd ever had to do in the whole of his short life. He didn't want to lose Angelo. So he wrote down everything he knew, hoping that it would help bring his boyfriend back. He told them that Angelo was staying in Willowdale on a witness protection program from a gang. He told them that Angelo was a child genius and child geniuses had been kidnapped by this gang called the NWI around the world. He felt guilty that he didn't remember the number plate of the black van they used, but that was all he knew. He'd just had to hope that the security camera footage picked it up. After two hours, he handed the witness statement to the receptionist.

"Done. Can I go now?" Logan asked, his eyes red with relentless tears.

"You're under eighteen, right?" the receptionist asked. Logan nodded. "You'll have to wait for a parent or guardian to pick you up. We can't let you leave alone."

"Yes, ma'am," Logan sighed, sitting down in the waiting area. The time crawled forwards, the minute hand moving painfully slow as Logan waited for his mother. He thought of Angelo's anguished face moments before he was ripped away from him. The redhead's eyes watered again and he was seconds away from bawling all over again when his mother burst in to hug him. Angelo's parents were with them.

"Logan!" the distraught boy's mother called, hugging her son. "It's going to be OK. It's going to be OK."

"Is it true?" Bonaventura croaked. He looked dishevelled and pale. "Is Angelo missing?" Logan nodded, and Roselle broke down and sobbed into her husband's arms.

"He said that I should give you his phone before they took him," Logan reported. He dug the phone out of his pocket and handed it over. "I don't know why. He also said not to panic." Roselle cried even more. Bonaventura looked like he was about to collapse, but was keeping it together for the sake of his wife.

"Thank you, Logan," Roselle replied, as they went to talk to an officer about filing a report. Logan felt a hand on his shoulder and he saw his mother behind him.

"Come on, sweetie," Martha murmured, taking Logan's hand and walking him to her car. Logan hugged her and tried not to cry. As he sat in the car and looked out of the window, watching the world rush away from him, he wondered what Angelo was doing. He hoped that they weren't treating him badly, but there was no way to know if he was or wasn't.

When Logan got home, he went straight up to his room and bawled. He cried like a baby over losing Angelo, his boyfriend. He was so sweet and funny and caring and Logan couldn't bear the thought of him suddenly going forever. He went over to the mirror to look at the hickeys he'd left on his neck, already fading away, and remembered the closeness they'd had. It felt like it had happened so long ago now, and he just wanted Angelo back. But now, Angelo Riva was basically forbidden fruit. He used to be only a phone call away, but now he didn't even know where he was.

 _I hope you're safe, Angelo,_ Logan thought, as he fell into a second wave of wailing.

* * *

"Angelo Riva, are you?" a redheaded woman asked, as Angelo was held by two burly men in black. They kept a tight grip on his arms so he couldn't escape from them. Not that he could have. He was in the middle of nowhere and had no way of getting himself home.

"Y-yes, ma'am," Angelo stammered. The woman smirked at Angelo's anxiety.

"Do you know who we are, Angelo?" the woman asked.

"Y-you're the New Wave of Intellect," Angelo told her. "You've kidnapped child prodigies like me before, and we have to do stuff for you. Then we get dumped on the side of the road and nobody knows where you are or what we did with you."

"You seem to have done your research, little boy," she cooed, flipping her long hair back. "That's normally what we do. But you're going to be different. This is the last part of our plan and you have all the skills we want, so we won't need anyone else. And you're going to know too much for us to let you go . . . so you're staying. I hope you like your new home!"

And Angelo fainted.


	19. In the lion's den

_Tuesday, May 27th_

* * *

Logan didn't go to school the next day. He couldn't even bring himself to get out of bed. Angelo was gone, and might not ever be coming back. He could only imagine how scared Angelo was, alone with nobody to call for help and with no idea where he was. A group of men wearing all black with white theatre masks took him away in the most brutal manner possible, and he felt as if he would never fully recover from losing Angelo Riva. He heard his mother talking on the phone about how Logan wouldn't be coming into school for a while because of psychological trauma, and the faint natter on the other end of the phone of the receptionist. His mother then hung up and went to work.

And then Logan heard the worst sound of all. Silence. He'd been left alone with his thoughts . . . and he hated it. They swirled around his head like mental vultures, telling his that he was useless, a failure, a pathetic boyfriend and a wimp. He had sat there, not doing anything, while Angelo was hauled into a black van and taken away. _You did nothing when your boyfriend needed you to do something the most._ That thought echoed in his head the most. That he was a coward. That he did nothing to help.

 _But I did help. I gave Angelo's phone to his parents like he asked._ That one optimistic thought about himself kept Logan from completely losing it. It helped him not to panic, like Angelo said. He did the only thing he'd been told to do. Angelo's phone had stayed with him and been successfully delivered to his parents without it leaving his sight or being damaged. But he had no idea just how this would help matters. He was still missing. Nobody knew where he was. Everyone around him was terrified to hear the results.

 _I hope you're OK, Angelo,_ Logan thought.

* * *

Over at the Riva household, Mirella was crying her eyes out. She wanted her big brother. "I want Angelo back!" she sobbed.

"Mirella, we told you, Angelo is . . . lost. We don't know where he is and he left his phone," their father replied.

"The police are looking for him," her mother promised. Mirella just cried.

"I'm scared, though, _Mamma_ (1)!" Mirella cried, leaving snail trails of snot onto her mother's skirt. Her mother didn't even care. She was just so worried about Angelo and if he was safe or not. Pepsi padded into the room and tried to snuggle with Mirella. Mirella threw herself onto him, crying hysterically. Her big brother had gone, and she didn't know why. But she knew that he might not come back.

* * *

Angelo woke up sleeping on a mattress on the floor. He'd apparently been carried to the mattress after he fainted and then he'd slept until the next morning. After his eyes opened, two men hauled him to his feet and dragged him out of the small room he'd been sleeping in.

"Get to work," one of them huffed. He was rather short and fat.

"With what?" Angelo asked. The other man, taller and thinner, smacked him round the face. "OW!"

"That'll teach you not to be so much of a brat," he growled. "You get to work on that! Right in front of you!" He pointed to a odd assembly line in front of them.

"What does it do and what do I need to improve?" Angelo asked.

"This, brat, is a bomb maker," the taller man said proudly. "Making bombs by hand are tiresome and time-consuming. So this is going to make our bombs for us. And we need you to help us make it!" He grabbed a toolbox out of a dusty corner of the room and dropped it at Angelo's feet. He also took the plans and shoved them into Angelo's hands. "We'll be back in five hours and this had better be finished or you'll get the whooping of a lifetime, you got that, boy?" Angelo frantically nodded, and the men left, chuckling. Once they were out of earshot, Angelo dropped the scared schtick and got to work literally dismantling the efforts of an extremist vigilante terrorist group. But first, he needed evidence. He tapped the face of his watch and MAIA was projected out of it.

"MAIA, before you say anything, I want you to decrease the volume of your talking by 50%," Angelo ordered.

"Yes, Angelo Riva," MAIA replied, their voice much quieter.

"That's better. Now, I want you to get ready to take some photos," Angelo replied. He directed the A.I-based assistant to take photos of the plans he was given, the bomb maker and the settings for the bomb maker. "MAIA, send all the photos taken today to my phone." The watch bleeped, signifying that the transfer had been successful.

"Do you have any other needs, Angelo Riva?" MAIA asked.

"Yes. Stay on standby and start discreetly making both a visual and audio recording once any voice that isn't mine can be heard. Only stop recording when I say," Angelo ordered. The hologram retreated into the watch face, and Angelo took a screwdriver and got to work. He painstakingly unscrewed every screw he could find to the point where it was almost out but not quite, messed up the wiring, and programmed the wrong instructions into the robotic sensors. The rest of that time was writing out an (incorrect) plan on how it would work, knowing that they would see it as an insult and refuse to read it, because how could he know their invention better than them?

At the end of the five hours, the men came back, accompanied by the mysterious redheaded woman. "So, Angelo, I trust that you have completed our automatic bomb assembly line," she purred. "I'm sure that you know you'll be punished if you haven't."

"I have, ma'am," Angelo told her, handing over the fake instructions that he knew her men would disregard. He was right.

"Son of a bitch!" the taller man screamed, slapping Angelo around the face. Angelo staggered backwards, almost tripping over his own feet. "You've got a lot of nerve, writing instructions to something you didn't even invent. We're not going to need this, you see?" Tearing up Angelo's instructions in front of him and smirking at the shocked look on Angelo's face, he went to put some instructions into the automatic bomb maker today. The machine whirred into life, and the man started sucking up to the woman. She had to be the person in charge of the New Wave of Intellect if he was acting like that. "See, Susan, I knew that we wouldn't need those dumb instructions that-"

And that was when the automatic bomb maker broke down. First it just seemed to be sagging slightly to the floor, but then it just fell apart, the individual pieces clattering to the floor, smashing or bending out of shape upon impact. It was glorious (or horrific, depending upon how you looked at it). Angelo clapped a hand to his mouth to stop the terrorists from seeing him smile at their misfortune. The redheaded woman (who he now knew was called Susan) turned slowly to glare at the offending man. He looked terrified.

"You twit! You arrogant little asshole!" Susan screamed. "The parts for that bomb maker added up to millions and took months to make, months! You have wasted our donors' money! There were instructions right there on how to use it and you destroyed them! How fucking stupid must you be?" She was shaking him and he looked like he was going to shit himself. She let him go, wiping her hands on her black pantsuit like he was disgusting. Luckily, she didn't connect the recently kidnapped prodigy in the room with her to the breaking down of the machine. "Gentlemen! Take Ivan away and teach him a lesson!" Ivan freaked out and struggled as two brawny men in white theatre masks grabbed his arms and legs and took him away. Susan sneered at Angelo, as if to convey the message that one little setback for them wouldn't get him released.

"You. Dave. Take the kid to his room and leave him there until tomorrow," she ordered. The shorter man cuffed the back of Angelo's head and dragged him over to the tiny room with the mattress that he had to sleep in now. He fell onto it and pretended to be miserable.

"Nighty night, smartass," he sniggered, as he locked the door to what was basically his cell. Angelo waited until the footsteps faded away, and then whispered a command to MAIA while sitting on the mattress.

"MAIA, stop the recording and shut down. Don't turn back on until I say," Angelo instructed.

"Yes, Angelo Riva," MAIA said, shutting down and displaying a normal watch face. This was how he kept the watch from being discovered. He sighed as he tried to go to sleep. It had been a long, scary day and he couldn't wait for it to be over.

* * *

Over at the Riva household, Angelo's parents were still freaking out at the kidnap of their younger son. Bonaventura was pretending that he was the only one keeping it together in his family, but he was breaking down inside. Mirella was terrified, and kept trying to play on Angelo's phone, but it had been locked and she didn't remember the password, so she was understandably frustrated. She looked at the tiny icons at the top of the phone and freaked out. She ran with the phone to her mother and shoved in her face as much as possible. "Mamma! Mamma! Angelo's got a plan! He's got a plan and he wants us to help!" Mirella shrieked. She gave the phone to her mother, who wasn't convinced. "His phone was beeping and it said something about photos!" She just thought that her daughter was being optimistic and had an hyperactive imagination.

"Oh, sweetie, that's impossible. How could he be doing that?" Roselle sighed, hugging Mirella. "Look, the police are doing everything they can to find him. Don't worry, sweetie, he'll come back." She said this to comfort her daughter, but she had no idea whether or not it was true. Nothing was certain, and it terrified everyone about it.

"I-I-I don't know! But you have to tell the policeman! Or we might never get Angelo back!" Mirella cried, hugging her mother hard.

"But we can't get to the phone because it's locked," her mother replied.

"The police can unlock it!" Mirella blurted out. Worn down, Roselle agreed and got into her car to take the phone to the police station. Mirella insisted on coming with her, and she was just too tired to protest. Maybe someone could unlock her son's phone in order to see if there were any clues on there. She waited, and eventually met a different police officer this time. He was older than Officer Woods and a lot thinner with a head full of slowly greying brown hair and grey eyes. He got up and shook her hand the moment she came in. Mirella was sent to a waiting room so she wouldn't hear the horrible details.

"Mrs Riva, I am Chief Inspector Clark Starling, and I have been assigned to the case of your missing son," he introduced. He spoke with a clipped British accent. "I hear that you have a piece of evidence that you are willing to submit. Is this true?"

"I think there may be something on my son's phone that can help, but we don't know the password and can't unlock it," Roselle told the man. Saying it aloud, she sounded like a crazy mother, but she wasn't being looked at that way. "Is there anything you can do to unlock it?"

"I'll get someone to work on this, then go through all of the texts he's received until yesterday. Yesterday, I take it, was the day of the kidnapping?" The distressed mother teared up and nodded. Mirella suddenly remembered something about the phone.

"The password starts with 9," she blurted out. Both the adults stared at her.

"Pardon?" the chief inspector spluttered.

"The password for Angelo's phone starts with 9. It also ends with 3," Mirella told them. She was remembering pieces of the password, but not all of it. Unknowingly, she'd cut the time the police would spend to roughly a fourth of the original time.

"Thank you, miss," the chief inspector sighed, as he wrote that down. "You're being very helpful in your brother's kidnapping case, you know. I'm sure he would be proud." He had no idea of what would happen next.

"What does kidnapped mean?" Mirella asked. "Mamma, you and Papa told me that Angelo was lost!" She started bawling. The girl's mother glared at the offending man, who shrank back with fear. Everyone knows not to mess with an angry mother. Angry, the two left to go home. Mirella was furious at not being told what had happened, and took it out on her mother.

"You said Angelo was lost and he wasn't! You lied to me! I hate you, Mamma!" Mirella yelled, before she ran off to her room and cried. She desperately wanted her big brother back. Roselle used the last of her strength and composure to make a phone call to Santo's naval base. She was transferred over to her eldest son, who was confused. Usually, he called his mother, not the other way around.

"Mamma, what's going on? Is everything all right?" Santo asked. That was when she broke. The matriarch of the Riva household sobbed hysterically as her eldest son listened on the other end of the line, confused. "Mamma?"

"I'm so sorry. It's Angelo. He's . . . he's missing! He got kidnapped yesterday and we don't know what's going on!" their mother wailed. Santo dropped the phone in shock. "Santo? Santo?" He picked the phone up to answer his mother.

"I'll call you back," Santo said, ending the phone call to check the news in any form. Newspapers, radio, online, just any way he could. He found it on the very first page. His bunkmate was reading it.

"Well, what do you know, another nerd got kidnapped by a bunch of nutjobs," he muttered, rolling his eyes. Santo tried to read over his shoulder. "Hey! Get your own!"

"What name is it?" Santo asked, nearly frantic. "What name?"

"Jesus H Christ, calm down! You don't even know this guy!" his roommate huffed. "His name is Angelo Riva. There; you happy?" Santo staggered back, before regaining his composure and running.

"That's my brother. That's my little brother!" Santo yelled, running away. The indifferent roommate watched him leave, mouth agape. He was going to book some indefinite time off from the navy for personal reasons. If he was going to hear anything about his little brother, it wouldn't be from the media. It would be from his family and the police.

* * *

Back at the police station, Chief Inspector Starling had finally unlocked the phone and was going through the text messages the missing maven had been receiving. Nothing out of the ordinary, and on a hunch, he went through the photos. Angelo had sorted the photos in his phone into folders, which made everything so much easier. He found an interesting folder that had been created today, marked 'Evidence'. But that had to be impossible. Angelo was still missing and nobody had been able to open the phone until they got to it, so who made this folder? Clark opened it and went through the contents, and the contents made his eyes widen. He whipped out his own phone and called his superior. "Sir? Are you there? You need to come down here and review some evidence. When they said that the kid was a genius, they really weren't kidding. He's literally giving us evidence."

"Have the phone watched until I can get there," the voice on the other end commanded. "Good work, Chief Inspector Starling."

"Thank you," the chief inspector replied. And then his boss hung up. That would be the last Clark heard from any superior of his today.

* * *

Over at the Norwood-Sykes mansion, Mr and Mrs Norwood-Sykes were freaking out about their prize student being kidnapped. "This is horrible! A boy being kidnapped!" Mrs Norwood-Sykes wailed. "In our tiny town! This isn't supposed to be happening!"

"I thought you didn't like him because he ruined your favourite dress," Maxwell pointed out. His parents' reaction made no sense.

"And what awful timing, too. I have to file a report on the estimated amount of money the school will need for the rest of the year and he counts as a high-maintenance student. He could easily get us another few grand," Mr Norwood-Sykes complained. Now it all made sense. His parents wanted Angelo around for the fat paycheque, and he was supposed to play nice and be friends so it all looked more genuine. But just when he tried to make a perfectly valid point about the company he kept (namely the scruffy loner Logan) Angelo just had to insult him and make himself seem cool. So this was all his own fault. Sure, the photo of them kissing was going a little too far, but Angelo benefited from it . . . sort of. Maxwell snuck away from his parents to read a news article on his phone about it. Sure enough, there was a video (the police were allowing it to circulate in the hope of any leads) from a security camera of Angelo trying to stop the men from dragging him away into a black van. Logan could even be seen sitting at a table, presumably in shock. There was also a portrait photo of Angelo smiling into a camera next to his little sister and the family dog, possibly to give it a dose of sentimentality and sympathy. The article talked about how Angelo had been brutally kidnapped at an innocent little local pizza place by a group that had been identified as the New Wave of Intellect. That he'd been missing since yesterday and there'd been no word from anyone, not even the kidnappers themselves reaching out to the media for demands to be met. Police were appealing for anyone who knew anything to report it to the police. Maxwell smirked as he closed the tab containing the article. That guy could stay with the kidnappers forever for all he cared. Angelo Riva was horrible.

"And there goes my competition," Maxwell muttered. "All I need to do now is wait for my followers to come rushing back to me. Won't be long now he's gone."

* * *

Translations

1: Mom/Mum. Italian.


	20. More sabotage

_Wednesday, May 28th_

* * *

Angelo woke up in the middle of the night, unable to sleep. His captors had locked him in a small, dark, damp room. There was a bucket to be used as a toilet, a single, full plastic bottle of water for hydration and the only food he had was a ham sandwich. He shivered as his clothes failed to stop the draught from nipping at his neck and slapping him round the face. These people had millions of dollars from their mysterious donors, and they couldn't use a different mattress for their captives to sleep on?

He thought about his family and friends back home. His parents. He remembered his father's greying black hair and his mother's shoulder-length blonde hair. Santo's rugged blonde hair and military uniform popped into his mind. Mirella's chocolate-brown skin and curly black hair that she tied back with scrunchies, mainly hot pink ones. His boyfriend, Logan, who he always called leprechaun to annoy him. He remembered all the hickeys that he'd left on his neck. That made him grin. Logan looked so cute when he was embarrassed.

But then he remembered that Logan wasn't there with him. None of them were. He was alone in a cold, damp room and he was so scared. The walls felt as if they were closing in on him and he started to have a panic attack. Worse than before. He cried as he thought about Susan grinning as she told him "I hope you like your new home!" He cried as he thought about the distraught look on Logan's face as he was shoved into the van. He cried as he remembered the wet rag with a sickly-sweet, chemical smell being pushed in front of his face just before he passed out. He curled up into a ball, sobbing and hoping that nobody heard him. He felt terrible for not telling Logan everything, not being tougher and fighting more when they came for him.

As he wiped his tears from his face, he thought about how much he hated them for putting his friends and family through all this, and his despair and panic morphed into an immense desire for revenge. These people were going to pay dearly for kidnapping him. He didn't care if they killed him for it, so long as he set them back as much as he possibly could.

The genius pretended to go back to sleep so nobody suspected him of planning anything, but then he heard footsteps that seemed to be coming his way. He feigned sleepy confusion just in time to see two masked men come to his room and this time, they had guns. He tapped the face of his watch, and because of the instructions he had given earlier, MAIA started recording. Perfect.

"Another day, another thing for you to do, brat. Get off your ass and get to work," the man to his left snapped. He had a dragon tattooed on his neck. Angelo sighed and got up, allowing himself to be escorted to wherever these men wanted to take him. He placed his right hand over his left so MAIA had the best possible angle to record with. "Your first assignment for the day: this hacking device that we like to call 'The Parasite'. It's incomplete thanks to the last guy. He made a mess of the whole thing, but now you're here, you're cleaning it up."

"I'm confused. Why do you need a hacking device for?" Angelo asked. The men looked at each other and snickered. He must have sounded so stupid to them.

"I'm sorry that you have to hear this, but the government that basically runs your life is corrupt. They're suppressing the truth using the fake media and social networking sites and then they set us to impossible standards that we have no chance of maintaining. We're slowly losing our individuality and nobody seems to care. Meanwhile, the people pointing this out are being put in prison and demonized. Good guys. Good guys like me and my friend here." The man to Angelo's right said this with the utmost conviction, like he was proud.

"So the good guys have to kidnap people to save the world? Doesn't that make them the bad guys?" Angelo asked.

"And you're helping us," he countered.

"Because you're forcing me to!" Angelo snapped. The two men looked at each other and they both punched Angelo in the gut, one after the other. Angelo collapsed to the floor, winded and dazed, while the men laughed at him. Looking up at them, Angelo likened them to old bullies he'd encountered. They left, still laughing, and Angelo heard a key turn in a lock. He was trapped in a windowless room in some godforsaken place in the middle of nowhere. Once the sound had faded away, Angelo turned the video off and went to work photographing everything. The old plans they had so helpfully left for him. The many faults the prototype called 'The Parasite' possessed. The prototype invention that had been left lying around. These photographs and the video were all sent to his phone. Now for the ceremonious event of destroying all their hard work that they had forced other nerds to do before they got to him. The wiring was horribly botched, as Angelo painstakingly threw away years of training that had taught him not to do such things with wiring. The programming was altered, as it instead was designed to reinforce material saved on computers instead of destroying or transferring it somewhere else. Now he needed the 'instructions'. He wrote out fake instructions that he knew damn well nobody would bother to read. And even if they did, they were woefully inaccurate and they were screwed either way. He grinned as he thought about the freaked-out look on their faces when they came back to check on their hacking device. The men came back to check on Angelo, but focused more on his work.

"Good work, kid. Now onto the next thing for you to fix," Dragon Tattoo Guy said. Angelo couldn't believe that they were making him fix one machine after another. This was a veritable mountain of evidence that he could collect against his captors.

"How many machines will I have to help you with?" Angelo asked.

"All of them," Tattoo Guy replied.

"We have a lot to do if we're going to create a whole new world with no corruption," the second guy replied. Now he looked closer, he realized that he had a long scar along his face. The second guy was nicknamed Skin Burn now. A third man came over with a single jam sandwich and a bottle of water.

"Here. Susan said to give you something to eat so you don't die on us," he muttered, shoving the sandwich and water at him. As soon as he got it, it was taken away.

"Not until you've fixed everything," Dragon Tattoo Guy snapped, confiscating the food. Angelo stared at him in shock, but it didn't last long before he was shoved into another room. This room was apparently a surveillance room, with a TV displaying multiple camera feeds in the centre of it. A single chair was in front of the mammoth TV.

"I see nothing wrong with it," Angelo blurted out. Dragon Tattoo Guy rolled his eyes and smacked him round the head. The room spun for a few seconds before Angelo's eyes refocused. Dragon Tattoo Guy grinned sadistically.

"And that was for being a brat," he snapped. "The problem is that it's slow, a bit like you. This needs to work faster. Make it happen." They left, taking the food with them. Angelo was all alone with a bunch of cameras, so he messed with them so much, he doubted he could fix them again. Once he was done, the cameras turned themselves on and off at random, blared out alarms at random and were horribly grainy. Now to get Dragon Tattoo Guy in trouble. He had to make it seem like he was on the verge of collapse. It had been a few hours since he'd been left in there, so it was relatively believable. He pounded on the door and screamed.

"Help! Somebody help! I feel like I'm about to collapse!" Angelo screamed. Susan, of all people, came to his aid and opened the door. Angelo collapsed onto her, and she struggled to keep him upright. He was much bigger than her, height-wise and weight-wise.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" she hissed.

"I can't take it anymore. I'm so hungry and I haven't eaten since yesterday. Some guy took my food earlier," Angelo babbled, in a supposedly delirious daze. Susan was livid.

"Which one of them took your food, Angelo?" she asked.

"I don't know his name, but he had a dragon tattoo on his neck," Angelo told her. Now she was really mad. The look on her face suggested that she knew exactly who he was talking about.

"Gentlemen, take Angelo to the sick bay and see that he gets something to eat," she ordered. Two other guys marched over and took Angelo with them. The malingering maven made sure to not fully carry his own weight as the men dragged him over to a room with beds arranged like a hospital wing. He saw a black-haired lady in a white lab coat. She had to be their appointed doctor.

"How are you feeling, Angelo?" she asked. As he pretended to slowly wake up, he analysed the room he was in and the person assigned to the task of treating him. She looked like she was of Chinese, Korean or maybe Japanese origin. Angelo played up the sickly teenager schtick some more.

"Dizzy and tired," he moaned. "Can I have something to eat?" The nameless raven-haired lady pressed a hand to his forehead to check for a fever.

"Well, you don't have a fever," she muttered. "Must be a simple case of fatigue caused by a lack of nourishment. I'll see if I can get you some food." At the mention of food, Angelo felt even hungrier. He then began to actually feel dizzy and tired. The room spun, but he shook it off and lay down. He was trying to get comfortable when Skin Burn brought him some food, more than before. He was given a small pepperoni pizza, a chocolate chip muffin and some apple juice. Much better. He ate the food slowly, trying to make himself still seem a little sick. Dragon Tattoo Guy staggered into the supposed sick bay looking like he'd been beaten up. His right eye looked swollen and the skin around it looked like it would become a very dark black eye. He had a split lip and a bloody nose. Angelo gaped.

"What happened to you?" he blurted out. He looked away, embarrassed.

"None of your business," he huffed. "I . . . just got a talking-to for not following orders." Angelo mentally translated 'talking-to' as being a covert way of saying 'beating'. As he ate his food, he felt much better.

"I want to go for a walk for a little while," Angelo sighed. The woman nodded and let him go. Angelo primed his watch to take photos and videos of what he would later see. He went from one room to the other, and slowly found that everything that everyone else had been saying about their own experiences with the New Wave of Intellect was true. The tank that had been reported was found in a nearby garage. It was actually more like a small armoured car with a gun attached to the top than a tank, which explained the car idea. The bomb making machine had already been found and documented. Angelo took photos like a madman, knowing damn well that in the short time he had been in their custody, the gang members trusted him just enough to leave him alone. That was their biggest mistake. Even if he couldn't escape, he could still screw them over and get them all sent to jail for life. He especially made sure to take photos of the cell he'd been placed in, with the bucket to use as a toilet and the bottle of water for hydration still inside. He suffered a minor hiccup when another woman, with short black hair, saw him and got suspicious.

"Hey, what are you doing in there?" she yelled as she stormed in, a pistol at each hip. She glared at Angelo. "And who might _you_ be?"

"Angelo Riva," Angelo stammered. "The New Wave of Intellect took me to work on their stuff." She looked at him and relaxed. She'd never had any trouble from their hostages before. There was no reason for this one to be any different.

"Never mind. As you were," she replied, walking away. Angelo couldn't believe his luck. He continued to take photos and send them to his phone, but not before literally taking a photo of her just before she turned away. He just hoped someone was able to see them and find out where he was.

* * *

Meanwhile, the police were monitoring the phone and they couldn't believe their eyes or their luck. The captive was doing all their work for them. Now they were hurriedly keeping all of this evidence as proof to use against the members of the New Wave of Intellect. "Holy smokes, this boy is a genius!" Officer Woods gasped.

"Of course he's a genius; that's why he was kidnapped in the first place," Chief Inspector Clark Starling snapped. "For God's sake, am I the only one entering any of this into evidence?"

"He's submitting it faster than we can enter it, sir!" a junior detective retorted, frantically writing down everything about all of the videos.

"You all should be ashamed that a teenager is doing a better job of this than you are," the chief inspector scolded. "I bet the next thing he's going to do is give us his location because he's tired of waiting for us to find him!"

"Chief Inspector, I hope you don't always talk to your subordinates that way," Superintendent Irwin Tanner curtly drawled, as he entered the room. "How is the case progressing, men?"

"He's literally giving us evidence, sir!" a sergeant yelled. "Lots of photos and videos! He has photos of some of the members that can easily be seen, sir!"

"That-that's amazing!" the superintendent blurted out, shocked. "How is he doing that?"

"I don't know, but he might be able to tell us if we're able to find him," Chief Inspector Starling said gruffly.

"Should we tell his parents, sir?" a police constable asked.

"No; we're going stay here and let themselves be worried sick," Superintendent Tanner snapped. "Of course they're going to know! Go and call them, immediately!"

"Yes, sir!" the police constable barked, leaving the room to call Angelo's parents. They arrived as fast as they could, desperate for any news about their son. Santo came with them, dressed in his civilian clothes (white shirt and denim jeans).

"Officer! Did you find Angelo? Did you bring him home? Do you even know if he's alive?" Santo asked. Chief Inspector Starling came out to meet them.

"I am Chief Inspector Clark Starling, and precisely who are you to him?" the chief inspector quizzed.

"I'm his brother, Santo Riva," Santo explained. "Stop messing around. Do you have any news about my little brother?"

"We have a video to show you that apparently has Angelo featuring in it. We need you to identify his voice," the chief inspector clarified. The family collectively tensed up. Angelo might be alive . . . or not.

"I'll do it," Santo volunteered, getting up. He was taken to a different room and placed in front of a phone. Angelo's phone. "Where did you get his phone from?"

"Angelo was forced to leave it behind and his boyfriend handed it over to his parents, who then handed it to us. We've been receiving photos and videos of the inside of their base since yesterday, indicating that he is alive and acting as an informant. But we're not sure if the kidnappers aren't making the videos and photos themselves, so we need someone to identify his voice, which is why you're here," Chief Inspector Starling told him. Santo nodded. He then sat through the first video Angelo had sent to his phone, where he covertly filmed the breakdown of the automatic bomb maker. Once the video was finished, Santo nodded.

"That's Angelo's voice. That's Angelo's voice! He's alive!" Santo yelled. He ran over to his parents and hugged them. "He's alive, he's alive! I heard his voice! _Mamma_ (1), Papa (2), Angelo's alive!"

"He's alive?" Bonaventura repeated, letting out a sigh of relief he'd been suppressing for so long. He was just so relieved to hear something good about his son's condition. "Wait; how did you get this video in the first place?"

"We've been receiving photos and videos of the inside of their base from him that end up on his phone," Chief Inspector Starling told him. "We have no idea why or how, but clues indicate that Angelo has been sending these to us."

"Our boy is trying to get you to help him!" Roselle sobbed. "Sir, is there anything you can do to get him back?"

"We're still searching for a possible location that he could be in," the older man admitted. "We'll notify you if we found him." The word if made the trio of family members tense up. That didn't sound good. They got up and left, happy that Angelo was alive, but worried that he might not stay that way. The kidnappers could kill him for all they knew and they would never know because he was just so far away. Santo was sleeping in his little brother's room, and he was terrified for his baby brother. He was so trusting once he got to know someone, and there was already a lot of stuff about him on the internet. Someone could have searched something up on the internet about him and used it to get him kidnapped.

 _I hope we find you safe, Angelo,_ Santo thought, staring up at the heavens.

* * *

Logan was still at home, staring at the picture he took of Angelo in the café, crying uncontrollably. He was heartbroken over the brutal kidnap of the teenager he had called his boyfriend. He hadn't been notified of anything, even though he gave his contact details to the police. It was a sadistic way of keeping him wanting more. Since the kidnapping of two days ago, he hadn't wanted to eat and stayed up all night crying, while sleeping all day because staying awake was just too much. His phone had so many notifications of articles with Angelo's name in them, so he didn't read them because they just rubbed salt into the wound. He lay in bed trying to get to sleep again when Caleb came into his room. "Logan, are you OK?" he asked.

"My boyfriend's just been kidnapped. What do you think?" Logan snapped. Caleb sat on the edge of the bed.

"I'm sure he'll be OK, Logan," Caleb soothed. "He's probably figured out a way to tell the police where he is and who kidnapped him. After all, you are dating a genius."

"So I can't be worried about him all of a sudden?" Logan snapped. "I have no idea where he is or if he's even alive! I've been freaking out since they took him!"

"Didn't he say to not panic just before he was taken away?" Caleb asked. Logan stiffened. He realized his brother was right. Angelo had yelled it at him before being shoved into a van and whisked away. He shouldn't be in his room freaking out. He should be living his life normally, the way Angelo would have wanted him to be doing even if he hadn't been kidnapped. Wanting to heed Angelo's wishes, Logan got dressed to go out for the first time in two days and went out for a walk to clear his head. It was at least an hour after school had ended, and he just wanted to go to the park where he had first met Angelo outside of school. This park had so many happy memories, and Logan wanted to breathe in the air as if taking the good memories into his lungs and never letting them out. He didn't know how long he sat there, but he was startled by a voice. A girl's voice. It was Melissa Crewe.

"I'm sorry to hear about what happened, Logan," Melissa softly said, sitting down next to him. "Someone as nice as Angelo didn't deserve this. Everyone's been saying it."

"How do you know Angelo?" Logan asked, immediately on edge. Angelo had never told him about a girl called Melissa.

"My girlfriend and I are in his science classes," Melissa explained. Logan's eyebrow raised.

"You have a girlfriend?" Logan spluttered.

"Yes, I'm lesbian. Don't get too surprised; you have a boyfriend," Melissa pointed out.

"Right. Sorry." There was a pregnant pause. "I'm just a bit wound up about it all. I was there when . . . when they took him." Melissa's eyes widened.

"Good God!" she gasped. "You really saw the crime happen?" Logan nodded in a sober manner.

"He said to not panic and that he'd be fine." Melissa didn't know what to do with such sensitive information, and tried to show sympathy and affection by rubbing Logan's back.

"That's beautiful. I don't really know what to say, but I hope he is found safe and you get some peace of mind," Melissa replied. And then she left. Logan watched her go, slightly hopeful. He had more support than he realized. He almost smiled as he walked home. Angelo would find a way out of wherever he was. Besides, it was Angelo! He walked home with a mind that was a little less clouded with guilt and self-doubt. And then he saw Maxwell, that smug prick. What was he doing here? He never normally strayed too far from his parents' mansion or the school.

"Hey, loser," Maxwell snarked. "I see you're making your way home to Willowdale's local rubbish dump. Must be nice." Logan brushed past him, walking home. This irritated Maxwell. Logan couldn't just ignore him. "Hey! I'm talking to you!" Maxwell started following Logan down the street. Now things were getting scary. Logan didn't want Maxwell knowing where he lived. He took a wrong turn into the woods, expecting Maxwell to blindly follow him. He did. "Logan, where are you going? I don't see any houses." Logan continued to walk, before taking a little shortcut that took him out of the woods, leaving his annoying follower all alone.

"Have fun finding your own way out of there, Maxwell," Logan muttered, as he went home. He went to sleep, still worried sick about Angelo, but a little less now. The redheaded boy had a feeling that everything would be OK.

* * *

That night, back over at the secret New Wave of Intellect base, Angelo was alone in his cell, taking one last photo of the miserable little cell he was in before subtly taking the entire gang down. He made sure to get a good angle of it all before requesting MAIA's help with the final part of his plan. "MAIA," Angelo whispered, "activate the GPS tracking chip inside this smart watch and monitor the movement from my phone."

"Yes, Angelo Riva," MAIA complied, doing as it had been told.

"Now start recording," Angelo instructed. The red light flashed, and that was his cue. "To whoever's watching this, this video is supposed to be an explanation. I've been kidnapped by the New Wave of Intellect and they want me to make their devices for them. I don't think they're going to let me go, like their other captives. I'll know too much. But I'm not going down without a fight. I've-" he had to stop and wipe a tear away from his face "been messing with a thing or two while I was there. They don't suspect me, or at least, I think they don't. I can't tell. If they find out, then I'm dead, literally. If that happens, then I leave all my worldly possessions and all the money I have to my parents." A door squeaked open to betray the people getting closer to Angelo's cell. "I have to stop here in case someone hears me. Goodbye." Angelo got up and turned the video off. Then he sent the video to his phone. Satisfied, Angelo ordered MAIA to shut down before going to sleep. It was out of his hands now.

* * *

Translations

1: Mom/Mum. Italian

2: Dad. Italian


	21. Rescue from the lion's den

_Thursday, May 29th_

* * *

At 7:00 AM that morning, the police force trying to bring Angelo home were in a frenzy. The situation Chief Inspector Starling had sarcastically predicted while berating his underlings had come true. In the middle of the night, the screen of the missing teenager's phone had turned blank and rebooted itself with the live location of Angelo's watch, which was too good to give up as a lead. Armed police were on their way to the location given to apprehend the kidnappers and bring Angelo back to his parents . . . dead or alive.

"Men, we have no idea how this mission is going to work, but stick to the plan," Superintendent Tanner ordered. "We surround the premises and block all exits. The battering ram is aimed at the entrance and a separate group will go in to arrest the gang members and bring Angelo Riva home. There is an ambulance on standby in case things get ugly. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir!" the police officers barked.

"Get into position!" Superintendent Tanner instructed. "Battering ram, stay on standby! Negotiator, get out the damn megaphone! If we want Angelo Riva out of there alive, then we need them to hear us!" He got out a walkie-talkie in order to issue more orders to the helicopters waiting above. "Helicopter units, monitor the building and notify us of anyone leaving so they can be brought into custody. Did you get that?"

"Yes, sir," a voice on the other end crackled. As the helicopters circled the abandoned barn the members of the New Wave of Intellect gang were based in, they created enough noise for at least half of the gang to hear them.

"What is going on out there?" Susan snapped, checking the security camera footage . . . which was a lot grainier than before. She chalked it up to one of her men meddling with it. The redheaded leader of the New Wave of Intellect got a shock when she saw helicopters circling the base like vultures. "The feds are here! Arm yourselves! Protect the New Wave of Intellect from the repressive, lying mainstream media!" she screamed. The gang members were nothing but frantic, grabbing guns and rifles of all sizes. Angelo looked around, terrified. People looked out of the window and yelled obscenities at the police officers, but they didn't listen. The negotiator barked out orders.

"All inhabitants of this building, walk out slowly with your hands up. We have you surrounded and are armed. We will not hesitate to shoot if you attempt to resist arrest," the negotiator slowly and loudly announced over a megaphone. Susan got defensive, and turned on everyone.

"Who called the police? Who? Who?" Susan screamed, turning from one person to another. Then, the tyrannical redhead turned to the only person with the most motive to get them all locked up. Someone who'd been under their noses the entire time. Angelo Riva. "ANGELO!"

"Yes?" Angelo gulped, terrified. Susan advanced onto him like a panther stalking its prey.

"You betrayed us!" she growled, as she got a gun and pressed it to the back of his head. He tensed up and allowed Susan to march him to his cell, with the mattress and bucket. "You can stay in there until you rot away, for all I care!" She slammed the door and the genius heard the key turn in the lock. Then he heard a padlock click and the rattle of chains as the door was secured. Angelo smirked on the inside of his makeshift jail. They couldn't get to him now. None of the people under Susan's command (mostly men) were going to go in without her permission. Angelo listened to the screams and curses of the various New Wave of Intellect members as they were apprehended, one by one. Then it became quiet. Too quiet, as they say in the movies.

"Hello?" Angelo quietly called out. No answer. He got louder. "Hello? Police! I'm in here! I'm here! Someone let me out!" A deep chuckle could be heard outside his door, making Angelo's blood run cold in his veins.

Help wasn't coming just yet.

"So, you thought you could sell us out to the corrupt police force, could you? You thought it was that easy?" someone growled outside his door. It was a man's voice. Angelo stayed near the wall, terrified. Then the door started to rattle in its hinges, as the person on the other end tried to force the door down. Luckily, the chains seemed to be holding him back. Susan wanted to keep him in there and make sure that the police never found him. But someone had found him . . . and it definitely wasn't the police. With a crack that echoed like thunder, the door gave way at the hinges and the biggest person the New Wave of Intellect had to offer was standing in front of him. Angelo tried to run, but then the door was blocked. "You're going to be sorry you were born, you little piece of shit."

Then the punches started. Punches that made him want to scream and curl up. But he fought back instead. He wanted to give as good as he got. The big guy grunted as Angelo landed a punch to the face that had to eventually leave a black eye on his attacker's face. The genius tried to push his attacker away, but he was too big. Angelo screamed for help instead.

"Get off me! Get off me!" Angelo shouted, in between punches that he both gave and received. "Help!" His attacker just grinned and landed a kick to Angelo's leg. A really hard kick. Pain shot up it like a lightning bolt and Angelo screamed with pain. That was when two police officers, a man and a woman, rushed in. The man was tackled to the ground.

"You are under arrest for assisting in the kidnapping of Angelo Riva and grievous bodily harm," the woman said, as she placed handcuffs on him. The man tended to Angelo.

"Have you been hurt in any way?" he asked.

"He kicked my leg really hard," Angelo groaned. "And I got punched a few times." The officer reached for his radio.

"We'll need an ambulance," he said, as he and the female officer carried Angelo out of the base so cleverly disguised as an abandoned barn. Coincidentally, Angelo was carried out at the same time as Susan, the ringleader, was being frog-marched to a waiting police car. He had just enough energy to give her a shit-eating grin before being taken to hospital. Every bump in the road hurt like hell, and he tried not to scream, but the urge was just too great. He yelled with pain on some of the bigger bumps, and eventually, he blacked out. It was too much.

He drifted in and out of consciousness for a little while (he had no idea how long) and it was scary. The faces he saw shifted all the time; some he recognized, some he didn't. It felt like he was living in a nightmare. Exhausted, he blacked out again. He wouldn't regain consciousness for hours.

* * *

Meanwhile, at home, Logan was sleeping when he got a phone call. He slept a lot these days. He couldn't beat himself up over what happened to Angelo if he was sleeping all the time. It was his personal phone that was ringing. Since Caleb wasn't at home and his mother was at work, he would have to answer it.

"Hello?" Logan asked.

"Is this Logan Dobson?" the voice on the other end asked. "The boyfriend of Angelo Riva?"

"Yes," Logan replied.

"We have good news. Your boyfriend, Angelo Riva, has been found alive. He's been admitted to St Joan's Hospital." Logan felt an indescribable surge of relief and euphoria. His boyfriend had been found alive. But the fact that he was in hospital worried the ever-loving shit out of the petite redhead. What if he was about to die and this was Logan's last chance to see him? He had to get there soon or risk never seeing Angelo again. He rushed around the house, throwing on some clean clothes and gathering just enough loose change for a day-long ticket for the bus. He ran to the bus stop and checked the time for the local bus that went to the local hospital. One was coming in three minutes. When it came, he rushed on and paid before anyone had time to get off. It was rude of him to do so, but he couldn't help it. He just had to see Angelo.

"This is what's wrong with you young people. No respect for the public," a middle-aged lady complained.

"Sorry, lady, but I have to see someone in the hospital!" Logan babbled. "It's an emergency and I'm not sure if they're going to be OK or not!" The lady softened at Logan's anxious face.

"That's something I can understand," she sighed. "But you still have to be considerate of other people, no matter your own situation. Do you understand?" Logan nodded.

"Hey, lad, do you want a single or a day ticket? And where are you going?" he asked.

"Day ticket, and I'm going to St Joan's Hospital," Logan explained. "Keep the change." The bus driver and the remaining passengers stared as Logan sat down and started listening to calming music by Marshmello. He stared out of the window and watched for the sign stating that the hospital was nearby. The moment he saw it, he rang the bell, stuffed the ticket into his pocket and waited for the bus to stop. Logan started to run to the doors of the hospital, faster than he'd ever had to run before. He was terrified of what he was about to hear, but he still wanted to hear it. The scrawny redhead approached the receptionist in a frenzy, wanting to know where Angelo was.

"I'd like to check in as a visitor, please," Logan panted.

"Your name?" the receptionist asked.

"Logan Dobson," Logan told her.

"And who are you visiting?" she probed.

"Angelo Riva," Logan told her.

"Angelo Riva? He's in a relatively stable condition, so any and all visitors are allowed. He's in the children's ward since he's under eighteen," the receptionist informed, smiling. "And just who are you to him?"

"I'm his boyfriend," Logan said.

"Stay in the waiting room and I'll send someone to direct you to the children's ward," she ordered. Logan sat down, and the woman made a phone call, presumably to a nurse or someone who could take Logan to Angelo as quickly as possible. He thought it wouldn't take long, but he found herself waiting for ten minutes . . . then twenty . . . then thirty. Before it got to an hour, Logan had fallen asleep listening to music on his phone. When he'd woken up, he found a male orderly in front of him. He had green frosted tips and a kind face.

"Excuse me, mister, but are you Logan Dobson?" he asked.

"Y-yes," Logan admitted.

"I'm Wesley, and I'm going to be taking you to Angelo Riva's ward," Wesley explained. "Now if you would just come with me, I can take you to him." Logan got up and followed the orderly through corridors and up stairs. By the time they had got to the children's ward, Logan could physically see Angelo, who was lying down on his back, unconscious and oblivious. He was surrounded by his parents, Santo, Mirella, and other people who were probably his family. They stared when he came in.

"Who the fuck are you?" one rather short, chubby, blond boy asked. He couldn't have been any older than sixteen, yet he stared at Logan with such disgust you'd think he'd been doing it for decades. His mother, a rather chubby lady that resembled her son a lot, slapped him for the language he used.

"I just want to see Angelo," Logan insisted, trying to get closer. The chubby teen tried to stop him while cursing under his breath. Angelo's mother stopped him this time.

"I know him. He's a good kid. Let him come closer." With his boyfriend's mother's blessing, Logan got slightly closer to Angelo, and then he was standing next to his bed.

"Is Angelo going to be OK?" Logan asked, terrified.

"We don't know," his father admitted. "The x-rays are still being checked." Logan sat in silence while Angelo's extended family scowled in his direction and muttered about him. This continued for about ten tense minutes until Angelo's eyes fluttered and slowly opened.

"What's going on?" he groaned. "How long have I been out cold? The last thing I remember is being driven to the hospital in an ambulance. What's the time?"

"You're in hospital. It's 4:30 in the afternoon, _mio bambino_ (1)," the injured boy's mother cooed. Angelo turned his head to look at his mother, and he teared up.

"Mum? Mum!" Angelo babbled, reaching over to his mother to hug her. She pushed his arms down and snuggled him, wiping his tears away.

"Angelo, you have to hold still," his father instructed. "The doctor said so."

"Dad!" Angelo blurted out. His father rubbed his son's head and poked his nose. Angelo grinned for the first time since he got into the hospital. "Wait; who else is here?"

"Santo, Mirella, _Zio_ (2) Valerio, _Zia_ (3) Maria, Rosario, Ricardo, Gisella, Carmen and Logan," his father explained.

"This is so many - wait, did you say Logan?" Angelo asked.

"Angelo! I'm here!" Logan reassured. "God, it's good to see you!" Both of them had tears well up in their eyes as they stared at each other.

"I thought I'd never see you again," Angelo whispered, reaching for Logan.

"I thought you were dead," Logan croaked. "You were missing for, like, three days. The police wouldn't tell me anything."

"Hey, carrots, who are you anyway?" the same chubby teen asked.

"That's my boyfriend, Rosario," Angelo told him. His mouth widened with shock, as if he never expected Angelo to have any romantic relationships at all, and certainly not someone of the same sex. His mother rolled her eyes at the childish display.

"He told you about this; don't be so rude," his Aunt Maria chided, shaking her head at him. "I'm sorry about my son, Logan."

"It's fine. I just came to see Angelo. Everyone is so worried about him," Logan told her. "It's all over the news." Angelo stiffened.

"How many people know?" Angelo whispered, blushing.

"It's world news, because the gang has operated around the world and you're a high-profile victim," Logan reported. Angelo blushed a darker shade of red.

"I just want this to be over. When can I go home?" Angelo moaned. He tried to pull himself up into a sitting position, but his leg hurt. His right leg, to be specific. A yelp of pain escaped from his mouth, and Logan tried to comfort him.

"It's going to be OK," Logan whispered. "It's OK. It's OK." While Logan soothed Angelo, a doctor in a white lab coat came in with some x-rays of Angelo's leg.

"Angelo, I'm Doctor Adler, I'm the one who examined your leg," he introduced. Angelo became very anxious about the outcome.

"Is it going to be permanent? How long will I need to stay here? When can I get back to school? Will I need a wheelchair or crutches? Am I going to need pain medication?" Angelo babbled. Doctor Adler smiled, pulled up a chair and sat down. The family shifted to make room for him.

"It's a simple break, so it shouldn't be long-lasting as long as you get some exercise after the cast comes off. You can go back to school in about a week's time. You're probably going to need crutches and not a wheelchair to get around for the next five weeks. The pain medication will be until your leg is completely healed. No earlier and no later." The doctor gave all these answers in a direct manner, which Angelo found to be a relief.

"Thank you," he sighed, lying back down. Mirella got curious.

"Does he have the cast on now?" she asked.

"Looks like it. One side is bigger than the other," Santo pointed out. Tentatively, the genius' brother lifted up the blanket to see a bright blue cast, which covered Angelo's whole foot and extended upwards, stopping just below his right knee. Angelo tried to manoeuvre himself into a sitting position, so he could look at his leg better. It was still painful, but better than before.

"How long will I be on bed rest?" Angelo asked, as he stared at the bright blue cast, acting as an anchor keeping him in place, forcing him down. He hated it already.

"Three days," Doctor Adler informed. "Unless there's anything else you'd like me to ask about, I shall have to leave." He stood there, awkwardly, as the family stared at him.

"Not right now. Thank you," Angelo sighed. The doctor left and with that, the family started fussing over Angelo.

"Angelo, look at you! You're not eating enough! Now you have to rest, you have to eat more!" his mother insisted. "How do we give him food?"

"I'll ask someone," Rosario said, his chair letting out a groan of relief as he got off it. All seemed well before they heard the shout of "WAITER!" echo down the hall. Angelo, Santo and their father all facepalmed.

"This is every level of stupid," Santo groaned. "Waiters don't work in hospitals, you moron!"

"I am hungry, so I'll call for a nurse," Angelo sighed, as he pressed a button that called for a nurse. "Could someone get Rosario?"

"I'll do it," Maria sighed, getting up and walking over to the sound of arguing. She came back in under a minute, dragging Rosario by the ear back to Angelo's bedside. Rosario was yelping in pain like a puppy.

"Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow! Mum, don't do that!" The grip on his ear became stronger. "OW-OW-OW-OW-OW-OW-OW-OW! STOP!"

"You are embarrassing me! Behave and sit still!" she hissed. Rosario shut up and sat still, the chair he was sitting on groaning with supposed pain as his ass applied downwards pressure to it.

"Does everyone know that I'm safe?" Angelo asked, looking into Logan's worried blue eyes.

"They will once you're out of hospital," Logan sighed. "You're a hero, Angelo. You got away from a gang and got them all arrested."

"I didn't arrest them; the police did," Angelo said, honestly. It was dorky things like that that made Angelo such a sweet boyfriend.

"You still helped, though," Logan reassured. "You led the police right to them." That was when Angelo's eyes lit up.

"The police! I need to see one of them!" Angelo blurted out. "They might get away! The kidnappers! If they're let out on bail, one of their rich donors might pay for it, and they'll get away!"

"Angelo, it's fine," Santo concluded. "They know!" Angelo froze, breathing a sigh of relief.

"That's good. I was worried, really worried," Angelo blurted out. Mirella hugged him, hard.

"You don't have to worry now," Mirella told him. He smiled and hugged her back.

"I don't want you to worry, my little fighter," Angelo smiled, as she snuggled close to her injured older brother. He let out a hiss of pain as she accidentally pinned his injured leg. Mirella freaked out and started to get away. "Mirella, what's wrong?"

"Mummy, I think I hurt Angelo! It was an accident, I promise!" Mirella babbled, tears welling up. Angelo petted her head.

"It's OK, sweetie," Angelo told her. "You didn't mean it." They were interrupted by a female nurse.

"I now have to tell you two things," she told the family and the concerned boyfriend. "Firstly, visiting times are over now it's 6 PM, and second, I need to tend to the patient in bed 17 in the children's ward. Ah, that's this bed."

"Wait, 6 PM?" Angelo asked, staring at his watch. She was right. It was 6 PM, and Angelo's family reluctantly got up to leave. Once they were gone, Logan kissed Angelo before leaving, literally behind his family's backs.

"I might not be able to make it much," Logan whispered. "I'm sorry."

"It's OK," Angelo whispered.

It was safe to say that he couldn't wait for the next time he could visit Angelo.

* * *

The bus ride home was a happier one than the bus ride to the hospital. Logan still looked out of the window, but he wasn't filled with dread. The same bus driver as before greeted him, checking his ticket even though he knew it was valid. It was procedure, he said. "How's your person in the hospital?" he asked cheerily.

"Better than I thought," Logan told him, relieved. "I thought it would be worse, given the circumstances."

"What circumstances?" he asked. "How much trouble could someone be in when they're only a teenager?" He chuckled, daring Logan to say something that proved him wrong.

"He's the boy that got kidnapped," Logan blurted out, a hand over his mouth when he realized what he'd said. The people on the bus stared at him, their mouths agape. The person he was visiting was the boy they'd been seeing in every newspaper. How was this possible?

"God, why didn't you say so?" the bus driver sighed. "You sit down." People stared in awe as Logan got on and started to listen to music, not looking at any of them, but knowing they were looking at him. They stared even more when he got off and went home. Caleb was already there, waiting.

"Where have you been?" Logan's mother asked. "You weren't answering your phone."

"I was at the hospital. Angelo was there. They found him. He has a broken leg. He'll be out in a week." Logan was rambling out of nervousness now. His mother let out a sigh of relief.

"So you'll be going back to school?" she asked. She felt like it was the wrong thing to ask only seconds after she had learned that her son's boyfriend was found alive. But Logan didn't seem affected by it.

"Yes, Mum," Logan said. "But I won't be coming straight home from school any more."

"Why?" the confused single mother asked.

"I want to visit Angelo in hospital," Logan explained. His mother and brother smiled happily.

"Now there's the precious little Logan I know," she cooed, pinching his face. As she walked away to prepare supper, Caleb grinned.

"I'll lend you the money for the fare," he promised. "Don't mention it." Logan smiled, tears welling up.

"Thanks," Logan smiled.

* * *

Meanwhile, over at the Norwood-Sykes mansion, Maxwell was in disbelief. Angelo had been found alive? And the police were apparently calling him a hero for literally dismantling their plans, and they had a video of him confessing to it, believing that it would be the last time anyone heard him speak. His parents thought it was amazing. "Now I can claim that we have a high-maintenance student coming to our school!" his father cheered.

"Oh, he is making the school look so good and bringing us so much publicity!" his mother celebrated. She didn't seem to know that this event had nothing to do with the school.

"Isn't he in hospital?" Maxwell asked, hiding his utter rage at his plan not working behind a thin veil of morbid curiosity.

"Then we must send him something!" his mother decided. For once, she didn't sound utterly vapid. "We shall bring flowers or chocolates or a gift! Just something!"

"Exactly!" his father agreed. "I could maybe mention that we were selling armchairs at half price."

"This is not a business opportunity for you, Sean!" the matriarch of the Norwood-Sykes household yelled. As the parents got into a shouting match, Maxwell slipped away from his room and went crazy. He had a full-on tantrum during which most of his stuff was destroyed, except for his laptop. That would be something he would dearly regret. Out of earshot of his parents, he began to rant and rave.

"Stupid, stupid Angelo Riva!" Maxwell screamed, as he threw games consoles, CDs and a few old phones around the room. He took his clothes out of his wardrobe and stamped on them. A maid peered in through the slightly ajar door and listened to the insane rant of her employers' son. "Why couldn't the kidnappers kill him? I want him dead! I want him dead and in a coffin six feet underground!" Then Maxwell saw the slightest hint of a maid's uniform and stopped. "Hello? Who's there?" he called. The maid, terrified of losing her job at the whim of their clearly unstable son, tried to make it seem like she was righting a series of portraits on the wall. Maxwell poked his head out of his room, looked around, saw only a maid doing their job, and went back into his room. This time, he closed the door and continued his tantrum, thinking nobody could hear him. But the maids had heard it all, and they were terrified.

"Something is horribly wrong," one maid whispered.

* * *

Translations

1: My baby. Italian.

2: Uncle. Italian.

3: Aunt. Italian.


	22. Hospitals and police questioning

_Friday, May 30th_

* * *

Now Logan knew that Angelo was safe and in relatively good condition (not the best condition, but if it meant that he wasn't dead and had no serious, permanent medical conditions was good), he felt able to go back to school. He was met by people who were very worried about him. They hadn't seen him in a few days and his link to Angelo as his boyfriend meant that he had gotten popular behind his own back.

"Hey, Logan, good to see you! You weren't in school for so long!" Marcus greeted. "You know your boyfriend's a hero, right?" Marcus asked. "That video was amazing!" This threw Logan off.

"A . . . hero?" he repeated.

"Oh, you didn't see the video? That guy broke everything they had to piss them off and confessed to it!" Jay yelped, jumping up and down like a hyperactive child. "He's the coolest kid here!"

"He always was the coolest kid here!" Melissa huffed. "He made nerdiness cool again!"

"He's a rebel!" Elijah yelled. More and more good things came out about Angelo.

"He helped me with my work!"

"He brought the Invention Convention down!"

"He was nice to me," a quiet boy asserted.

"How is he?" someone asked. Everyone got quiet and stared at Logan, expecting to hear the worst.

"His leg is broken," Logan reported. "He'll be back in school after a week in the hospital . . . but on crutches."

"Can you see him? Like, in hospital?" a girl asked.

"Yes," Logan replied.

"Can you bring him stuff?" Reuben asked.

"Yes, but you can't bring in ready made foods like takeout and pizza," Logan replied. "Little gifts like sweets and chocolates and flowers, yes, but no full-blown meals because that's the hospital's job." People nodded.

"Could you take us to him?" Melissa asked.

"I'll ask Angelo if he'd like to see you and then tell you what he says," Logan promised. People nodded with general agreement, and Logan continued on his way. He still felt rather numb, but now he had the support of the other kids in his school, it was decreasing a little. Just a little. He still doodled and daydreamed about getting out of school and going to see Angelo in hospital. Angelo had seemed so happy when he came over. Then he looked at the clock. It said 9:30. He had a lot of time until he could be reunited with his love. Six hours were about to go by in the slowest manner possible. He sat in his usual spot and started to save Angelo a seat, only to realize that he wasn't coming. The redhead wanted to cry, but he had to keep it together.

* * *

In I.T class, it was a lot louder than usual. People were listening to the video of Angelo Riva confessing to sabotaging the work of his captors. It was going viral around the world, with millions of views. Apparently, Angelo had recorded it thinking they were going to kill him for ratting them out to the police, and he wanted one last video explaining everything he'd done up to his death. But it had been leaked by some investigative journalists in an effort to find out more about the gang that kidnapped him. News stations, police forces and random internet users alike in the comment section of their official account were praising his bravery for passively resisting their will and generally slowing them down. Logan was so proud. His boyfriend was a hero, taking down an international gang and stopping them from ever hurting or scaring anyone else again. Logan wished that Angelo could see the praise he was getting. But then he wondered if that was really a good idea. Angelo was susceptible to panic attacks, and this could be a trigger of another one. He couldn't possibly tell him this in case he freaked out. But he was probably going to be told anyway, so he would have to mention it sometime.

Maxwell came in terribly late, and all conversation stops. People stared at him in disgust as he walked to his new designated spot. Before he went after the apparently untouchable Angelo Riva, he used to be able to sit with his fellow nerds at the front, but Maxwell was the living proof that rock bottom had a basement. He walked over to the corner spot that was now apparently dedicated to him and sat down, far away from the rest of the class. The corner spot was covered in old cobwebs and graffiti about other students, a place that Maxwell grimaced at, and it was for good reason. It was disgusting. The only other people on his row were intent on either ignoring him or making this lesson hell for him.

"That Angelo guy is easily the coolest person on the planet!" one guy eagerly told his friends, who murmured in agreement. "I mean, he's down to earth and nice and he's super savage when he has to be!" Then he looked at Maxwell, who was quietly seething with envy at the praise being heaped onto his still absent enemy. "But he's still in hospital, so we get stuck with Maxwell, that piece of trash." His friends were of differing opinions. One friend was quite willing to follow his lead. The other one simply didn't care enough about Maxwell to make his school life any harder than it already was. Maybe they just didn't know he was there.

"Two very different extremes of the rich people spectrum," the other friend agreed. "Angelo still manages to be one of the guys and doesn't flash his money around. That little turd uses his money to get out of trouble. Like detentions are for poor people. Hey, man, what do you think?"

"I think I don't care about this guy to talk about him as much as you do," the third guy finally replied. They all shut up about Maxwell and got on with goofing off. Maxwell felt like he was lower than a piece of trash that a bird had pooped on. He was too much of a piece of trash to even mention. He was . . . unmentionable.

"Students, I know you all admire your classmate's actions, but can we please get some work done?" Mr Daye pleaded. "You are supposed to be researching different types of website coding, not researching your classmate's death video!"

"But it's the coolest thing we've ever seen!" Tyrell blurted out.

"He's recording this because he's fifteen and doesn't think he'll live to see his sixteenth birthday! This shouldn't be seen by random people on the internet, but by his family members and the police!" Melissa yelled. "He's in the hospital now and he probably doesn't even know!" And that's how the debate started. Mr Daye, as someone who'd cemented his status as a friend and not as an authority figure, was in no position to stop the commotion going on inside his own classroom. So another teacher had to solve it. That teacher was Miss Hollins. She quietly stalked into the classroom, sending a cold glare to the rowdy teens.

"Everyone, be quiet," she curtly ordered. People hushed and rushed back to their seats. "What's going on that's making you act this way?"

"That video about Angelo's being called so cool when it shouldn't have been on the internet in the first place!" Melissa yelled.

"But he's confessing to being a badass hero! That's got to count for something!" a gothic kid blurted out.

"If you want to argue this out, then save it for debate club, not your I.T class. I'll write you both up for lunch time detentions," Miss Hollins told them. "Now get back to your seats. Mr Daye, I'd like a word with you outside." She took Mr Daye outside and gave him some advice. "You control that classroom by being a teacher first instead of a friend first," she said, talking to her colleague in a cold, concise manner. "That is how you keep a classroom from devolving into . . . that." And with that, she left. Mr Daye gulped. That lady was scary.

"Class! Get back to your seats now!" Mr Daye ordered. The students settled down and (for once) actually did some work. Mr Daye smiled. This was going to be the start of him being taken seriously as a teacher.

* * *

At the end of the lesson, Logan was about to go to lunch when he was approached by Mrs Josephson. "Logan, I would like you to pass something on to Angelo," she requested, giving the redhead a carrier bag. Looking inside, he saw it contained a box of chocolates and a get-well-soon card (signed by the teachers).

"Um, OK, miss," he acquiesced, taking the bag to give to Angelo later. Then he was approached by another group of students with a bag.

"It's for Angelo, OK? Give this to him," a boy ordered. The girl accompanying him slapped him.

"Don't be so rude!" she scolded. "But could you give it to Angelo the next time you see him?" she pleaded. Logan, still a little confused, nodded.

She wasn't the only person who wanted Logan to pass something on. By the time the final bell went, Logan was practically crushed under the weights of sympathy chocolates, flowers, and one huge teddy. He slowly waddled over to his brother, who was shocked. "How many people are giving you things to give to Angelo?" he blurted out.

"I lost count," Logan groaned. "Don't help me or anything." Hurriedly, Caleb relieved Logan of about three bags of gifts and the teddy. This meant Logan was now lopsided and leaned quite heavily to the left. Caleb dragged Logan over to the bus, paid for their fares and sat him down on a seat. People stared at the obscene amount of gifts they had, but neither of them cared. They had someone to see.

"Who are you seeing?" the receptionist asked.

"Angelo Riva," Logan told her. "I know the way now. Come on, Caleb!" The brothers walked up stairs and down corridors, got lost for a while, and were about to abandon hope when they saw a sign pointing to the children's ward. They walked in to find that Angelo, unbelievably, had only one gift given to him (a tiny box of chocolates) and his cousin, Rosario, was eating most of it.

"Come on, Angelo, there's only one left. It's so tiny I bet you won't notice," Rosario persuaded, as he crammed a handful into his mouth. Logan and Caleb were horrified, but Rosario couldn't see them. Then he turned around and glowered at the siblings.

"Hey there, carrots," he snapped, as he ate the rest of the chocolate bar. "Just drop off the gifts and go. You're not allowed to excite the patient."

"I want to see him!" Angelo insisted. Logan grinned and hugged Angelo. "Logan, you shouldn't have! This is too much!"

"People wanted to give you stuff. They want you to get better and come back to school," Logan told his astounded boyfriend. Rosario looked at the treats with glee.

"Hey, Angelo, can I have a box or two?" Rosario pleaded. "Please? You know how much I like chocolate stuff."

"Rosario, you've had an awful lot of chocolate," Angelo pointed out. "And your mother said that you weren't supposed to have any." His attitude changed dramatically, like flipping a switch. Rosario glared daggers at the prodigy.

"You're not my mother! Give me that!" he snapped, as he grabbed a nearby box of chocolates and ripped them open, eating them in front of Angelo, Logan and Caleb just to spite them. He was having the time of his life as he stuffed himself full of chocolate, completely unaware of his livid mother accidentally walking in on him stuffing himself full of forbidden treats. "I'm eating all your sweeties, I'm eating all your sweeties," Rosario chanted, sneering at his injured cousin.

"And you're in so much trouble," Angelo chimed in.

"Huh?" Rosario grunted. Angelo pointed to Rosario's mother, who was fuming.

"Rosario Celeste Riva!" she thundered. "How dare you steal food from your cousin, especially considering that he is injured and you are on a diet! He isn't well and you take his food and sing a stupid little rhyme as you do it! And in front of these other people! Do you have no shame? We are going home right now!" She grabbed Rosario's ear tightly, making him scream out loud. "I'm sorry you had to see that," she said, before marching her son outside. The screams of pain echoed down the hall.

"And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I try to stay away from family reunions," Angelo announced, and the trio burst out laughing. The tension, miraculously, was gone and they just laughed hysterically.

"I stay away so I don't have to deal with that one cousin who makes jokes about me being gay," Logan admitted.

"Let me deal with him," Caleb sighed. "I'll punch him in the face if you want."

"But you'll get in trouble," Logan sighed. Angelo watched on, feeling like he shouldn't be hearing this. He stared at his watch, getting rather bored now he had nobody to really talk to. His cast was itching, and he scratched it, hoping for some relief. "Angelo, stop that! What are you even doing?" Logan chided.

"It's not my fault the cast is itchy!" Angelo whined.

"About your cast . . . can I sign it?" Logan asked.

"You might want to find a place in between the signatures of my family," Angelo warned. Logan moved the blanket to expose the cast, but not his boyfriend's dignity, and saw a very odd calling card.

"Who wrote 'Angelo's namesake was here'?" Logan asked. Angelo blushed and Caleb stifled a laugh.

"My uncle, actually. My dad left my birth certificate unsupervised for a while and my uncle took the chance to name me after himself because there was a tiny little gap left. My uncle's name is Valerio. My full name is Angelo Savio Benvenuto Valerio Riva because he won a bet."

"And the other two middle names?" Logan asked.

"My grandfathers. They both died before I was born, and it was seen as unfair to name me after only one of them." Logan gazed at the signatures on the cast. His mother and father's signatures near Angelo's knee, adorned with kisses. Santo's neat print underneath that. Mirella's messy, curled, girlish handwriting on the top of his foot. Other illegible scrawls on the back of his leg. A ballpoint pen had been left on a table near his leg. Logan picked it up and started to sign his name on his foot, only to find that Angelo was a little sensitive. "Eep! Hahahahahahahaha!" Angelo giggled, as he felt a pen scribble over his soles. "No more!"

"Wow, Angelo, I knew you were ticklish but not this ticklish. Oh, it's adorable!" Logan gushed, as he wrote his name with painstaking slowness. Angelo giggled and squealed, embarrassed. Caleb stepped out to let them have a moment. (And also to let Logan do what he wanted to Angelo.)

"Gahahahahahahaha! Plehehehehehease, no more!" Angelo begged. "Ihihihihihihihihit tickles sohohohoho much!" Angelo giggled hysterically as Logan let the pen slowly write his name in block capital letters. Angelo's good leg was kicking out, but to no avail. Logan grinned as he finally finished writing the letter N, and then started tracing his writing all over again. Angelo just couldn't take it.

"Oh, you're so cute like this," Logan taunted, as Angelo screamed with laughter and began to beg for mercy. His face was as red as Logan's hair.

"NOHOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE!" Angelo begged. Logan sat on the edge of the bed and let the genius' laughter wash over him. It was just precious to see him look so happy. His hand was about to sneak over to his tummy when an angry nurse stormed over.

"You are distressing the patient. I will have to ask you to move away," she ordered. He backed away, while Angelo breathed slowly in and out, still giggling slightly.

"That tickled so badly. Thank God you're here," he sighed. That got her attention. Her expression shifted to a kinder look and she stared adoringly at Logan.

"What exactly were you doing when I came in?" she asked.

"I just wanted to sign his cast and it tickled him a lot. So I teased him a lot about it by tickling him more and he just couldn't take it," Logan explained, blushing. The nurse smiled at him.

"Well, I guess the only thing I have to tell you is that the noise is disturbing other visitors and other patients, so we will have to tell you to keep it down. Also, visiting time is due to end in ten minutes," she informed, as she walked away. Angelo was awestruck. Logan shuffled closer to Angelo, who tried to get away. He looked at the redhead with a nervous smile.

"What are you thinking?" Angelo asked, giggling nervously. Logan teased Angelo by drawing him into a hug.

"Angelo, there are other kids who want to see you, who want to know how you're doing," Logan told his boyfriend. "And . . . there's something you should know. I didn't want to tell you because you'd worry. There's a video online of you confessing to the sabotage of the . . . New Wave of Intelligence?"

"You mean the New Wave of Intellect," Angelo corrected. Then the reality of it all kicked in. "What?! I never posted that to the internet! It got sent to the police, and that was it! Who got a hold of it? How is it going viral?!" He began to cry uncontrollably, and Logan hugged him.

"It was some investigative journalists. It's not your fault. It's going to be OK. It's going to be OK." Logan hugged Angelo as he sobbed. "This will blow over in a while."

"But what if it doesn't?" Angelo rambled, panic-stricken. What if it never goes away and I have to live with this forever even though I never wanted it and-" He was cut off by a kiss to the lips, which deepened and widened. He closed his eyes and got used to the sensations. It felt good . . . really good. The next thing he knew, Logan had broken off the kiss and was snuggling him, sitting on the edge of the bed to hug him more.

"Angelo, what would you say about other people wanting to visit you?" Logan proposed, tentatively. Angelo nodded.

"I'd be fine with it," Angelo sighed. "They mean well. And the few that don't won't bother to come anyway."

"Fair point," Logan admitted. As the two snuggled, Caleb came back and tapped Logan on the shoulder.

"Hate to break you up, but visiting time's over," he informed. "Come on, Logan. Bye, Angelo."

"Bye, Callum! Bye, leprechaun!" Angelo chirped, as they walked away.

"Why did Angelo call you leprechaun, Logan?" Caleb asked. Logan blushed.

"He says that it's fitting because I'm short, ginger and half Irish," Logan confessed. Caleb burst out laughing.

"Now I know that your boyfriend's a genius!" he laughed. Logan glared at him.

"I try to get him to stop, but he thinks it's cute," Logan huffed. "He even called me his little leprechaun!"

"But that's adorable!" Caleb objected. "That boy is a keeper!"

"Not you too!" Logan groaned. Caleb laughed harder. "If he didn't already have a broken leg, I'd kill him!" This didn't stop Caleb from laughing, though. In fact, he thought it was funny enough to tell their mother about when he got home.

"Hey, Mum, you'll never guess what I heard Angelo called Logan!" he announced.

"Don't tell her that!" Logan whined. It was too late for him, though.

"I'm all ears!" she told her son.

"Angelo calls Logan his little leprechaun!" Caleb happily reported, laughing. Logan blushed.

"Oh, that's adorable!" Martha Dobson gushed. "Logan Dobson, that boy is a keeper!"

"MUM!" Logan yelped, blushing madly as his brother laughed hysterically. Hiding his reddening face, he stormed upstairs to his room, where he hid under the covers and pretended his mother and brother hadn't said anything. Before he knew it, he fell asleep.

* * *

Meanwhile, over at the station, police were interviewing Susan. Her full name was Susan Harding and she wasn't saying anything. The police had their work cut out for them with her.

"Who are your donors?" Superintendent Tanner asked, shooting her a cold glare.

"No comment," Susan huffed. The police weren't too bothered by the woman's stoic silence. They already had all of their names (since every last one of the gang members had a criminal record and had their fingerprints taken some time ago) and they had already taken their devices (laptops, mobile phones and security camera footage) but they just needed a confession from someone. That confession, unlike the video and photographic evidence, wouldn't be hand-delivered to them.

"How did you find all of this material about the child geniuses?" the hardened superintendent grilled.

"Everyone has a price," Susan grinned, breaking her silence at long last. "There's always some jealous, lonely little freak that they go to school with that thinks we'll kill them for what they know and they'll never have to see this kid again. So they tell us everything. Their routine, where they're most likely to be at a certain time, what route they take, where they have lunch. They do all the work for us. It's so genius, they should have thought of it!"

"Who told you about Angelo Riva's whereabouts?" Starling asked, not believing his luck.

"Some kid in a chatroom. Who knows?" Susan sighed. "They said they go to the same school as the fucking kid. Go check there." A pregnant pause occurred when all Susan did was check on the state of her nails and cuticles, refusing to look at the police officers.

"We're not getting anything else out of her. Send her back to her cell and hold her on remand. We can't set bail for any of them or they'll be out of here in a moment's notice," Starling ordered. Once Susan was out of earshot, his next order was issued. "Have all the computers and phones checked for search history and go through everything found on the devices. These people are using chatrooms to find their informants and then groom them for information. There's an entire digital footprint for us to follow. We've finally got them."


	23. Further down the rabbit hole of insanity

_Time skip: from Friday, May 30th to Monday, June 2nd_

* * *

Maxwell was dreading coming to school, and not just because it was a Monday. Sure, he'd never liked it, but now he actively despised it with all his being. The few things that he liked about this school (being able to lord it over the other students because he was the smart kid with better grades than them and a rich father) had gone. Now Angelo was the smart kid and Maxwell had become the spoiled brat that had detentions nearly all the time. The only thing he hadn't lost was the wealth he would undoubtedly inherit when he was older. Nobody could take that away from him, but the rich blond boy missed the sensation of having even a few friends. Sure, he called Reuben his friend because both of them were the sons of very rich men (actually, Maxwell's dad made more money than Reuben's dad, but Reuben's dad was still rich because he was a doctor), but he didn't see Reuben as being on his level intellectually. How could he? Reuben still attended . . . average classes. He was well above that. The only people on his level intellectually were the ones in his advanced classes, but none of them were on his level economically because his family was richer than all of theirs put together and doubled. There was nobody he really had anything in common with, except for Angelo. But he hated Angelo because he always seemed to be better than him. _It's lonely at the top,_ Maxwell thought, as he got changed. He packed his bag for school and impatiently waited at the door for the driver. The poor man just wanted a coffee and a bite to eat before he went behind the wheel and now he had to deal with his employer's undisciplined brat shooting him the stink eye from the back seat.

"Where have you been?" Maxwell snapped. The flustered man tried to stammer out a response.

"I just went to get a coffee-" he tried to say, but Maxwell cut him off.

"Never mind. Just get in and drive," Maxwell huffed, as he got in the back seat of a black Mercedes-Benz C300 with tinted black windows. "And drop me off in front of the school. I want everyone to see me like this! They'll be so jealous!"

"If you wish, Maxwell," the driver sighed, as he made the turn to arrive in front of the school, just at the time when the most students could be expected to be coming into school. They stopped and stared at the sleek luxury car with pure envy. It was basically everything they couldn't have. Maxwell stepped out of the car and walked out of it feeling like a lord. That feeling changed the moment he could hear what the other kids were saying about him.

"Seriously? Showing up in a Mercedes-Benz just to show off to the rest of us? He hasn't done that in years! Why now?" Logan muttered under his breath.

"Oh great, the rich guy's letting us know that he's the rich guy like he thought we forgot or something. What next?"

"Is he trying to make us forget that he's an asshole and an idiot?"

"Hey, don't forget bully!"

Maxwell scowled. His plan didn't work. People actually seemed to hate him more! How was that possible? This trick had worked so well when he was younger; why not now? It failed to occur to Maxwell that the reason nobody cared about his publicity stunt any longer was because they didn't change anything about him. He was too far gone into his own world to be able to make them forget about how horrible he was the rest of the time. He vowed to make the people who taunted him about anything that day utterly miserable. He trudged into class feeling like a loser and not a lord, bumping into Miss Turrets on the way. "Good morning, Maxwell," the terror of a teacher reluctantly greeted.

"Leave me alone, loser," he grunted, without really registering who he was talking to.

"Excuse me, Maxwell? That is no way to talk to a teacher! For that, you can expect a detention!" Miss Turrets huffed. Only then did Maxwell know who he was talking to, and by then, it was too late. He tried to stutter out an apology, but other students were already laughing at him, so he decided against it. The spoiled furniture heir tried not to think about it as he transitioned from registration to yet another history class. At least now he wouldn't have to think about Angelo being better and more popular than him.

Or so he thought.

"Class, today we shall be doing an online quiz I made about the progression of medicine," Miss Hollins introduced. "I'll give you the entry code and you can pick your own usernames, provided it's not inappropriate." People rushed to make silly usernames based on memes, e.g. The Almighty Karen and Pepe the Frog. One person named themselves after a gorilla that had been shot and killed by zookeepers and another one had temporarily stolen the name of a teenage climate change activist that had made her name by skipping school to protest how world leaders were treating the issue of climate change. Maxwell tried to hop on to the bandwagon of pretending to be someone else . . . and utterly ruined it for everyone.

"Who named themselves 'Angelo Riva'?" Logan asked. Everyone turned to the board to see that the inventor's name was on the board, while the inventor wasn't there at all. It was tasteless at its best and disgusting at its worst.

"It . . . it was me. I named myself Angelo Riva," Maxwell confessed.

"Maxwell, send yourself out," Miss Hollins ordered, as she deleted his username from the leader board. Maxwell sighed as he gathered his stuff and left. Logan was near tears. Why did Maxwell have to be so cruel? Everyone already knew that the real Angelo Riva was in hospital after being kidnapped by politically motivated mobsters. It was only a broken leg (which was a lot better than the way it could have turned out) but he wanted Angelo to be with him in school, not confined to a hospital bed.

 _Maxwell's gotten so much worse now. It's worrying me and it's also rather scary,_ Logan thought. _I want Angelo back._

* * *

"Hey, Logan, what did Angelo say about others visiting him?" Marcus asked, as he queued up in the canteen to get a slice of pizza.

"He's fine with it," Logan said. "If you want, you can go and see him."

"Cool. Thanks," Marcus replied. "Where?"

"St Joan's Hospital," Logan replied. "Visiting time ends at six o'clock."

"Great!" Marcus thanked, as he walked away. Logan had no idea what was going on. His classmates seemed nicer than before . . . and also a little odder. People had never been so community-minded about the school before Angelo Riva got there. It was an endearing sign to his that maybe he'd misjudged his classmates. He felt like he'd watched way too many teen movies and applied them to real life.

"Hey, Logan, are you OK?" a girl asked. She wasn't too memorable to Logan; lot of brown-haired girls dyed the ends of their hair blonde. She wore a black dress covered in embroidered cherries that came down to the middle of her calf and her hair was tied back in a ponytail. He didn't know this girl. But she knew him, so he tried to be polite.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Not to be rude or anything, but who are you?" Logan asked.

"I'm Louise, Melissa's girlfriend," she introduced. "Melissa was worried about you and she sent me to ask because she's a little busy right now. She also says that you can call her if it gets to be too much." She handed Logan a strip of paper with a phone number on it. Logan took it, nodded to Louise, and then left. He couldn't wait until he could finally leave.

* * *

Speaking of people who couldn't wait until they could get out of school that day, Maxwell was stuffing himself with baked goods at lunch in an attempt to drown his feelings in sugary goods. "Stupid kids, thinking Angelo's better," he ranted to himself, in between cramming a chocolate-filled doughnut into his mouth. "Stupid Angelo, making me look dumb and being so much cooler all the time. I'm not dumb! I'm not!" Behind the cashier, Charlie watched the now chubby blond as he talked to himself while eating, slightly disturbed by what they were seeing. Should they call the police? But he wasn't being a nuisance to them. They'd just have to grin and bear it until he left. "I thought when they kidnapped him, he was gone forever!" Now Charlie was really disturbed. They remembered reading about a kidnapping in Willowdale, but how could this boy know any real details about it? They busied themselves with whatever really needed doing in the bakery. Maxwell got his phone out of his bag (the old one his parents were making him use as a punishment,) and called Reuben, the only one who knew about the punishment he'd got from his parents and had his new number. "It's insane. Even when Angelo's not here, people still think he's cool!" Maxwell complained. He was doing that a lot, and since he was never really aware of how he looked to other people, he never changed. The fatter of the two boys tried to explain why people acted that way to him.

"That's because of the video that-" Reuben got shut down. Maxwell was truly livid, more than ever before.

"Yes, I know! It's such a double standard! I tell people stuff about Angelo, and I'm a creep. A bunch of journalists do it, and it's a 'revolutionary discovery'!" Maxwell ranted.

"What's the difference?" Reuben couldn't take any more of it for even a second. Maxwell was now too insufferable even for him.

"Maxwell, those are investigative journalists. Finding stuff like that is their job, not yours!" Reuben blurted out. "Angelo never wanted you to find out that he was dating Logan, and if Angelo was ever planning to tell anyone that he was a genius, assuming he was, he'd have done it himself!" Rebelling against Maxwell felt good . . . amazing, actually, would probably be a better word to describe it. Maxwell, on the other end of the line, felt utterly shocked. Rueben wasn't usually like this. Maxwell Lacey Norwood-Sykes had been betrayed by his closest ally. And it stung so, so much.

"Fine! If that's really the way you feel, then forget me as your friend! We're done!" Maxwell screamed, hanging up the phone and going right back to stuffing his face. But when he found nothing there, he simply got up and bought more food. It's not like he would be broke after just one more, anyway.

* * *

_Time skip: from lunchtime to the end of the day_

After school, Caleb was waiting for Logan outside the school grounds. "You seem eager today!" he remarked.

"Today was boring. Maybe seeing Angelo might make it better," Logan explained.

"You have got a really bad crush on him, don't you?" Caleb taunted. Logan huffed, averting his eyes and blushing. The thought of Angelo kissing him again gave him a rush. They boarded the bus, paid the fare, and listened to music the entire way. Rock songs felt like a really good music genre to listen to now. It motivated him and made him feel like he could conquer the world. As the bus pulled up near the hospital, Logan and Caleb got off and went to Angelo's ward. Logan felt a sudden and urgent need to pee.

"Where are the toilets?" Logan asked, as Caleb searched his pockets for change to slot into the vending machine.

"Go up the two flights of stairs to your left, and the men's room should be on your right," a passing nurse informed the redhead.

"Thanks," Logan squeaked, before running up the stairs. He was utterly desperate for some relief. The urge to urinate was soon met, and after a few minutes in the bathroom washing his hands and checking his face and fly were fine, he took a deep breath, made himself look as tall as he could and walked to the ward Angelo was on. He found the most adorable form of chaos imaginable.

"AAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! STOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOP!" Angelo begged, as at least five people drew on his cast, which was found to be covering extremely ticklish flesh. It was about that time when Caleb came in. Logan was about to attempt to pull people off his boyfriend, but that was before he could hear what they were saying about and to him.

"Oh, that's so cute!"

"Reckon this happens every time anyone tries this?"

"How long can we do this before he wets himself or passes out? We'll have to stop just before that to make sure he's OK."

"Aww, he's so sweet when he's giggling! Can we do this forever?" His arms were held down by four guys (two people to each arm) as he screamed with laughter. Angelo struggled a lot, begging for mercy.

"LOHOHOHOHOHOGAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAN! MAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAKE 'EM STOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOP! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE!" Angelo begged. Logan walked over and snuggled Angelo, 'accidentally' letting his fingers poke and prod Angelo's ribs. Then he grabbed him by the collar of his hospital gown and kissed him hard. Whooping and loud talking could be heard, and the ward was becoming rather loud. A nurse stormed over to the crowd of teenagers.

"Only ten visitors per patient at a time," the nurse ordered. "Organize amongst yourselves precisely who will leave and who will stay, and you had better decided it by the time I get back." She stalked off to deal with another patient, and at least fifteen kids left immediately. Soon, the only kids left (other than Angelo) were Melissa, Logan, Caleb and Louise.

"Damn, I can't believe Nurse Samantha did that. I just wanted to see my friends," Angelo sighed. Logan tried to make his boyfriend feel better about the situation.

"Oh, Angelo, they did get to see you. They also got to sign your cast and tickle you until you begged and they said you were just _sooooo_ cute," Logan taunted. Angelo blushed so much, he took the pillow out from under his head and placed it over his face so nobody could see how red-faced he'd become. Logan pulled up a chair and started to tease Angelo. "Oh, don't do that, Angelo. I just want to see that bright red face of yours."

"You just want to torture me," Angelo huffed. His voice was muffled by the pillow. "Haven't I been embarrassed enough?"

"Let me think about that for a second . . . nah," Logan taunted. Angelo let out a muffled moan of humiliation.

"You looked adorable," Melissa sighed. "You were so cute, squirming and squealing because you couldn't hold still." Caleb, getting rather bored, poked Angelo's tummy and toyed the prodigy's toes (that hadn't been encased in plaster). The giggles and squeals were ever so sweet. Logan yanked the pillow away from Angelo's face and the inventor's torment continued. But this time, it was at the hands of his precious little leprechaun (and co).

"BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO, PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE!" Angelo was utterly lost in hysteria as Logan got the Italian's tummy all to himself, six pack still included. Caleb was scratching at the sole of his left foot. Melissa and Louise settled for an armpit each. It was so cute how he squealed and begged for mercy with every ticklish squeeze.

Damn, he was becoming such a sadist. But he couldn't help it. Angelo was perfect, just perfect. He snuggled Angelo hard, listening to the sound of him giggling. "Shh. Don't worry, Angelo, it'll stop soon," Logan whispered.

"PROHOHOHOHOHOHOMIHIHIHIHIHISE?" Angelo howled. Logan nodded.

"Of course we'll stop . . . once visiting times are over at six o'clock," Logan joked. "And it's only . . . 4:15 now. One hour and forty-five minutes to go!" But Angelo wasn't going to last another minute, let alone an hour and forty-five minutes. He seemed to weaken as the energy was sapped from him. "Well, aren't you cute? All tired out, hmm? Just so sweet!" Angelo yawned as Logan tried to make him more comfortable, suddenly so tired. He wanted the nice feeling to continue. It was sweet how Angelo nearly fell fast asleep with utter exhaustion. Logan fluffed the pillow so it was plumper, placed the pillow underneath Angelo's head and patted his head. "Goodnight, Angelo," the redhead cooed.

"It's not night time, you dork," Angelo sighed. He still had an adorable little smile on his face. "See you tomorrow, leprechaun!"

"My name is Logan, Angelo! And for the last time, I am not a leprechaun!" Logan yelled. Melissa, Louise, Caleb and Angelo laughed. Logan glared at all of them. This was so embarrassing. Then Nurse Samantha came over to shoo them all away.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave for causing a noise disturbance," Nurse Samantha insisted. "You can come back tomorrow, but for the rest of the day, I want all of you gone. Is that clear?"

"Fine, I'll leave. Do you know where I can get any crutches?" Angelo asked. Caleb shoved his hand in front of his mouth so he didn't say anything stupid. Nurse Samantha glared at the teenage invalid.

"Not you, kid. And don't even think about saying something along the lines of 'but you said everyone'," she snapped. Angelo gulped. "Now go." They sighed and reluctantly left, meaning Angelo was left with Nurse Samantha. Once they were gone, Angelo smiled nervously at her.

"Hehe . . . sorry," Angelo apologized, smiling weakly.

"I can't wait until that kid is out of here," she muttered under her breath, as she left the ward. "That boy is a nightmare. He doesn't mean to be, but he is."

* * *

At home, Logan and Caleb laughed about how Angelo talked to the mean nurse. "That was pretty funny!" Logan admitted.

"I really don't want to say this, but my mom was right. Your friend's pretty cool, " Caleb grinned, grinning as Logan blushed.

"Shut up," Logan huffed. "My love life is none of your business, Caleb Dobson."

"Except for when I want to tease you about it," Caleb corrected.

"Like I said, shut up," Logan huffed.

"Never."

* * *

Maxwell sat at home, angry at the cruel world he lived in. This world had treated him badly, and for no reason. But they would pay, all of them. They'd mistreated him, and once he was successful (there was no doubt in his mind that he would be successful) he would treat them as badly as he had been treated at their hands. Even Reuben had left his side, and he was Maxwell's last line of support. School was a torture chamber to him now. Everything and nothing hurt all at once. For some reason, he wanted to see how Angelo was doing, so he could compare himself with Angelo one more time. He saw article after article of Angelo's miraculous escape that he had done all by himself. He hated it, he hated how people loved Angelo so much and despised him.

"I wish that I never have to see Angelo again," Maxwell muttered, as he went downstairs to raid the fridge. He was unaware of how his classmates didn't see him as being cool or even the smart kid, unaware of how his clothes no longer fit right, unaware of just how much he'd changed for the worst. Maxwell had reached a whole new level of oblivion towards his actions; it was at the point where his attitude hurt people more than his body ever could just by existing in all its toxic glory. It would stop eventually, but not now.


	24. Early discharge

_Tuesday, June 3rd_

* * *

Logan came into school with a big smile on his face. He'd been counting down the days until Angelo got discharged from hospital, and tomorrow was supposed to be the day. He couldn't believe that time went by that fast. It felt like only yesterday that he'd heard about Angelo coming home safely. He'd faithfully visited him in hospital daily, staying for hours at a time and only leaving when he was told to by the nurses, who were probably sick of him by now. Angelo would run his mouth a lot, but that would all change after a few pokes and prods to his tummy. Then the adolescent genius was putty in his hands, blushing profusely and pleading for mercy from his scrawny, weak boyfriend as he giggled hysterically. Utterly perfect. Unbeknownst to him, Logan's facial muscles twisted upwards into a dreamy smile, which Miss Turrets noticed and brought up.

"Logan, must you daydream during the register?" Miss Turrets snapped. "A smile like that on your face means you're either in love, have good news, or both. Would you like to share your good news with the class?"

"Angelo's being discharged tomorrow!" Logan blurted out. People whooped and cheered. Maxwell glared at all of them, livid that Angelo got so much attention even in his absence. He would never have any idea how people reacted to him being suspended, but he could only imagine what they said about him. And it couldn't possibly be good.

"We should do something!" Melissa suggested. Other kids quickly agreed.

"He's a hero, so we should give him a hero's welcome!"

"We could stand in a line and applaud when he comes in!"

"Let's give him some sort of gift!" Maxwell couldn't take any more, and blurted out something stupid.

"What next, a parade?" he snarled. The room used to be really happy, but it turned sour in a matter of seconds. Maxwell Norwood-Sykes had ruined the perfectly good mood once again.

"You really know how to piss a guy off, don't you?" Marcus growled.

"Detention, Marcus!" Miss Turrets ordered. "Maybe then you'll learn that foul language isn't tolerated in this school!"

"Whatever." The bell rang, and people left to go to their respective classes. Maxwell, as punishment for his constant snobbery and hatred of the coolest person they knew, was dealt the usual amount of 'accidental' jostling and shoving, which he hated. What was it about Angelo that made him seem so cool? Both of them were smart, and both of them were rich (but in different ways). But Angelo was bigger and conventionally handsome, while Maxwell was a nerd, and he looked it. Yeah, that had to be. It was their looks. Angelo had a six-pack and muscles, while Maxwell was a scrawny nerd. He looked down at his stomach - which didn't look the way he remembered it. How was he this chubby? He had a fast metabolism, like his mother! He was a naturally slim person! But he'd have to think about this later. He had a lesson to go to. He checked his timetable. He had a lesson all right: a PE lesson. The worst of all. The other boys would pick on him for being both rich _and_ unfit. He got his PE kit and expected to go in and get bullied relentlessly, but nobody even looked at him. Before, he was teased and literally pushed around, but now all he got was the cold shoulder. He didn't know what was worse.

"Hey, Logan, is Angelo coming to school after being discharged?" someone asked, after they had gotten changed. Maxwell was especially peeved to hear that it was Courtney asking. Courtney used to be his intellectual ally. Now he was consorting with the enemy's boyfriend. Could his life get any worse?

"Get out there and start doing laps! It's about time you warmed yourselves up!" Coach Hurley yelled.

Apparently it could.

* * *

After five torturous laps, the teenagers learned that they would be playing football (soccer to Americans). Coach Hurley assigned the teams randomly, and Maxwell found himself in goal, relatively out of the way. He should have been fine, if his teammates were actually any good. They were playing at the same level as him - terribly. None of them even knew how to dribble or tackle, so the other team made up of mainly average players ruled the court. They had three goals under their belts and everyone on Maxwell's team was blaming each other.

"Would it kill you to save the ball for once?" one boy snapped at Maxwell.

"Would it kill you to tackle them for the ball?" he snapped back.

"Hey, could I get some help up here? I'm outnumbered," Reuben sighed. Due to the workings of fate, they were on the same team. Maxwell smirked at his ex-friend's misfortune. Karma was torturing Reuben for him.

"I'm busy with these guys!" Courtney yelled, as he fell on his face attempting to tackle the ball away from an opposing player. He grinned and sent the ball into the back of the net. It moved so fast that all Maxwell could do was watch, even though he was in goal and should have (as well as could have) stopped it. The other team whooped, cheered and laughed at their opponents, who went back to arguing. It was going to be a very long PE lesson for him, even if it was only an hour long.

The lesson ended with all the teasing Maxwell expected at the start of the lesson in the changing rooms. It really started when Maxwell took off his shirt, which was drenched in sweat. His new, fleshy physique was noticed and mocked. "Wow, you got fat!" someone yelled. Maxwell grabbed the shirt and used it to cover up his swollen, flabby chest.

"I'm just a little bloated," Maxwell denied.

"No, man, you got fat. Don't know what's worse you as a scrawny, skinny person or you as a round little butterball," Jay snickered. The insults just kept on coming.

"Look at this rich little piggy!"

"Squeal for me, piglet!"

"That rich family of yours can't afford a gym membership?"

"Leave me alone! Y-you're just jealous that I'm richer than you!" Maxwell yelled. Boys rolled their eyes. Maxwell clearly hadn't changed a bit, and not in a good way.

"Angelo's also richer than all of us, but he never rubs it in our faces. He didn't even tell us because he was worried we'd think he was a snob, like you!" Marcus pointed out. "Why don't you get it, Moneybags? Angelo was humble, so we liked him. You weren't, so we didn't."

"Angelo lied to you!" Maxwell yelled. "I thought you didn't like being lied to! Don't you wonder why he did it?"

"To protect himself!" Tyrell angrily responded. "He didn't tell the whole truth, and we know that now. And it's in every newspaper in the world that geniuses like him got kidnapped. He had to lie!" Boys nodded.

"You guys are pathetic, standing up for a liar," Maxwell snarled, as he got changed and went to his social studies class. Again, he was ignored, and he went to his seat, which was now right in front of the teacher, even in classes where there wasn't usually a seating plan. This was in all of the classes that he shared with Angelo, telling him that the school was taking this seriously. He could have sworn that he saw a girl's eye roll at his arrival. Nobody rolled their eyes at him! He was about to set her straight on a few things when he saw Mr. Carey was there.

"Today, we will be looking at global social movements around the world," Mr Carey introduced. He mainly taught geography, but sometimes stood in as a supply teacher for other subjects. "Social issues are issues that affect a large group of people, and we'll also address how people have tried to combat these issues over time. Would anyone like to suggest an issue that is regularly talked about?" His eyes swept across the room, before settling on Logan. "That's it. If nobody's going to volunteer, I'm going to pick on someone now. Logan?"

"The environment," Logan suggested.

"Good, very good. What about someone else? Melissa?"

"LGBTQ+ rights," Melissa offered. This continued until there was a long list of issues, including (but not limited to) homelessness, child abuse, crime, unemployment, poverty, adoption, sexism and whether the death penalty should be brought back for murderers.

"Oh, this is going very well. Now, I'd like you to get into groups and discuss how you would try to solve one of these issues," Mr Carey instructed. People got into groups of roughly four or five and started discussing. Logan picked the environment so he could search up ways to help and 'accidentally' find his boyfriend's achievements. But Melissa stopped him right there, knowing exactly what Logan was thinking of doing.

"He said to research how to help save the environment, not to research Angelo, Logan," Melissa huffed. Logan turned bright red. Melissa gave him a knowing glance as she continued to look at articles concerning climate change activists. She quickly became annoyed. "Why does Angelo keep coming up? At this point, I should go to the hospital he's in and straight up ask him myself!"

"He said to research how to help save the environment, not to research Angelo, Melissa," Logan huffed, grinning. Melissa glared at him for using her own words against her. She was about to reach over and punch him, but then Mr Carey walked over to inspect the amount of work they had done.

"Very good, Logan and Melissa, lots of work being done there," Mr Carey praised, as he continued to the Red Bandanas. "And what are you researching, gentlemen?"

"Systemic racism, sir," Elijah answered.

"Interesting," the geography teacher mused, as he continued to Maxwell, who was working alone. Reuben had been quickly snapped up by a few of the geeks that weren't as hardcore as Maxwell used to be, but were still picked on for being a little dorky. "Maxwell, would you care to tell me exactly what social issue you are researching?"

"I am researching the topic of bullying, a topic that I have found myself very familiar with," Maxwell explained, feeling rather proud of himself for making such a decision and explaining it so thoroughly.

"Of course you'd be familiar with bullying," Logan muttered, too low for anyone but he and Melissa to hear. Melissa nodded. It was ironic to them (and indeed, the majority of the class) that the biggest bully the school had was researching bullying. Maxwell was oblivious. Mr Carey nodded at his most snobby student as he left to ask a group of girls about their group project.

* * *

At lunch, Logan went through his phone to see if he had received a text from Angelo. Maybe he'd gotten his phone back from the police. But there were no new messages from him, and Logan was deciding to just turn the sound on for his phone so he would hear the message if it ever came. He didn't want to miss it. "You reckon he'll text me when he gets out of hospital?" Logan asked Melissa. Louise was there too, but she was playing a game on her phone, ignoring them completely.

"Of course he will! He loves you to bits!" Melissa reassured. "Wait; does he have his phone?"

"I gave it to his parents and they handed it over to the police so he could be tracked," Logan relayed. "They probably still have it! What was I thinking; he can't text me if he doesn't have his phone!" He groaned and cradled his head in his hands.

"He'll find a way," Louise smiled, looking away from her phone momentarily to comfort Logan. "He's done it before."

"Thanks," Logan sighed, smiling just a little. The girls were nice to him, which was a welcome comfort for the lonely redhead. "He'll certainly ring me. It's Angelo. He always calls if he's able to."

* * *

_Time skip: from lunch time to final lesson, history_

Logan daydreamed through the lecture about ancient medicine thinking about Angelo. He was imagining his boyfriend sitting next to his, taking notes and occasionally grinning at him with a wicked, devious grin on his face. It hurt him so much to see the chair he normally sat in was empty, but that would change soon . . . hopefully. Now he thought about it, what if Angelo moved away after something like this? He wouldn't blame him for it, but he wasn't sure if their relationship would survive the long distance. He tried to focus on the lesson, but everything seemed so far away and hard for him to concentrate on. Logan was going to need something to snap him out of this state, and it would have to be loud so he noticed.

His phone gave a quick ring of notification only five minutes before the end of class. Logan jumped when he realized how loud his phone was, and blushed when students looked his way. His mother couldn't be calling him now! She knew when school ended!

"Logan, turn your phone off and hand it over," Miss Hollins sighed. Logan surrendered the phone without protest. "You can have this back at the end of the lesson." Maxwell grinned at Logan's bad luck. It felt good to see someone that he knew had ties to the person he hated more than anyone in the world (enough to give his details to kidnappers, anyway) get into any kind of trouble at all. Miss Hollins continued the lesson and, when the bell went, kept Logan behind. "This isn't like you, Logan. I've noticed that you've had trouble concentrating lately. Is everything OK?"

"I've been better," Logan admitted. "I've been worried about Angelo since he got kidnapped, and it's gone a little bit since he was found and went into hospital, but I'm still worried about him, a lot. He should be discharged tomorrow and I can't stop thinking about it." Miss Hollins nodded sagely. He was in such a difficult position and nobody really knew the half of it. All they could really do was have sympathy for the distraught boyfriend of the kidnapping victim. She gave Logan his phone back, which the ex-loner treasured. He needed it to see if Angelo was going to call or text him, but he wasn't even sure if he would see Angelo much after that. Sighing, he went through the phone's most recent notifications, and found one text message. It was from Angelo.

_**Hey leprechaun, I got discharged early. Could you come over?** _

Logan rushed out of the school, heading to Angelo's house instead of the hospital. He had been missing the inventor so much and almost brushed past his own brother trying to do so. "Hey, what's the rush? I thought you wanted to see Angelo in hospital," Caleb inquired.

"He got out! Don't worry about taking me to the hospital; I know the way to his house!" Logan rambled, as he continued to run. Caleb nodded and went home. His brother had a meeting to make.

Logan ignored all laws to do with being either a pedestrian or a driver and sprinted to Angelo's house. People leaned out of car windows and hurled abuse, but he didn't care. There was a teenage genius that he needed to see, and everyone knew that time waited for no man. Out of breath, he knocked on the door, feeling like he was about to collapse. Mr Riva opened it. Logan silently noted that he looked a lot better than he had when he saw him at the police station.

"Oh, good afternoon, Logan!" he greeted. "I suppose Angelo told you?" As he talked, Pepsi padded over and started jumping up to lick the redhead. "No! Pepsi, no!"

"Yeah, he sent me a text. Do you mind if I see him?" Logan asked. Angelo's father nodded and stepped aside to let Logan in.

"He's in the living room," he said quickly, as he went off to do whatever he had been doing before. Logan went into the living room to see Angelo. He found the robotics genius lying across the sofa, foot still in plaster and looking content as he read a book. His phone had been set down on a coffee table to Angelo's left. Merely being content turned to utter joy the moment he noticed Logan.

"Logan!" he yelped, smiling so happily as he put the book down and waved at him. "I can't believe you came!" Logan shut the door behind him so they could have some privacy.

"Of course I came for you," Logan smiled. Angelo had a big smile on his face as he hugged Logan as hard as he could. "I missed you at school. It's lonely."

"I missed you too," he smiled. "Staying home sounds like a good thing, but I got bored once I realized that there was nothing on TV and I can't get to my books without using the stairs or making my parents get it for me. Also, you were in school, so I couldn't talk to you."

"Well, now I can make it up to you," Logan cooed, pinning Angelo down and giving him love bite after love bite. Angelo purred and giggled, squealing whenever Logan hit a sensitive spot. Overall, he seemed very eager to receive more, and more was what he got.

He heard the door creak open. Logan scrambled away from Angelo and was about to apologize when he saw that it was only Pepsi, who was rather tentative around Angelo, despite living with him. Maybe he didn't recognize him after all that time in the hospital.

"Pepsi! Pepsi, come here!" Angelo called. Pepsi barked and continued to stay away. "Pepsi, it's just me! It's Angelo! Don't you recognize me? I've been away for a little while but I'm back now!" Pepsi inspected Angelo for a few tense seconds, before rushing over to lick him, tail wagging. Logan giggled as Angelo squirmed, failing miserably and snickering hysterically as Pepsi nosed and licked Angelo's tummy, while the teenager lay there, helplessly giggling.

"You are one sweet guy," Logan grinned, letting his fingers dive into Angelo's armpits as he screamed with laughter. "I'm going to need you to hold still, OK?" Angelo squirmed and blushed.

"SOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO YOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOU CAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAN TOHOHOHORTUHUHUHURE MEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!" Angelo laughed. He kicked an awful lot, and Logan considered getting something to hold him down.

"You think you know torture, Angelo? Just wait until I find a good pen," Logan taunted. The already red-faced teen turned redder than a fire engine. "And then I'll let the pen draw all over your foot and listen to you scream and beg and tell me that you're so sorry."

"No, please!" Angelo pleaded, as Logan pushed Pepsi off the Italian's stomach. Logan softened as Angelo seemed to really not be able to take any more. He stroked his boyfriend's hair and set about making him more comfortable. A conveniently-placed large blanket was thrown over his body. A pillow was placed under his head.

"Thanks, Logan. You're so sweet," Angelo smiled. "You didn't even have to come over."

"But I wanted to," Logan cooed. "I was worried about you. So many people are worried about you. They thought they wouldn't see you again."

"So they'll be happy to hear that I'll be back at school tomorrow, I guess," Angelo smiled. Logan was elated.

"I was so worried about you," Logan sighed. "I'll come here to walk you over to school." Angelo blushed and looked away.

"I'll be fine on my own," Angelo huffed, blushing. "What if you're late because of me?"

"It'll be worth it," the Irish redhead told him. Then he got a phone call. It was his mother. He was torn between answering the phone and interrupting the time he was happily spending with Angelo, or declining the call and getting an earful from his mother once he got home. He excused himself and answered the call.

"Logan, where are you?" Martha asked. "I've been sending you texts that you haven't even read yet. You haven't called me and your brother tells me that you didn't go to the hospital. Now, where have you been?"

"Angelo got discharged early. I went over to his house," Logan explained. He could hear an audible sigh of relief on the other end.

"Oh, thank heavens for that," she sighed. "Be back by eight o'clock and don't do anything illegal." And then she hung up. Blushing, Logan went back into the other room and found a wholesome sight. Angelo was asleep, still snuggling the blanket he'd been tucked into and breathing evenly. Logan ruffled Angelo's hair and found a post-it note in the kitchen so he could write Angelo a message for him to wake up to.

* * *

Two hours later, the sleeping genius woke up to find that Logan wasn't there. But there was a post-it note on top of his phone that definitely hadn't been there before. Angelo smiled like the lovestruck idiot he was as he read the post-it note.

_You fell asleep when I came back in. I had to go home anyway. Goodbye, honeybunch._   
_Logan._

Angelo tucked the note into the case of his phone so nobody saw it and realized with a start that he felt hungry. He reached for his crutches and hobbled over to the kitchen to get himself an apple. He'd never had a big appetite, so the apple would do. The genius munched on it, and started flipping channels. He got to the news, and received a shock.

"And here we have a truly inspiring story. The international gang called the New Wave of Intellect that had been kidnapping multiple child prodigies has finally been brought down by their thirteenth and final captive, Angelo Riva. The resourceful teenager used a tracking device that he linked to his phone to indicate to police where he, and ultimately the gang members, were based. All members found there were arrested and Riva was hospitalized with a broken leg caused by this man." A mugshot was placed on screen of a big, bald guy with a long straight scar starting roughly a half-inch away from his right eye and ending a hair's width away from his right nostril. He also had a black eye. Angelo recognized him as the man who kicked him hard enough in the leg to break it, and, despite himself, was proud of himself for giving his attacker a black eye. "Police suspect that the person who informed the gang of Riva's whereabouts is in the same age range and could well be someone he sees regularly. Police are looking in all areas for any clues." Angelo nearly choked on a bite of apple at that last piece of information. He probably went to school with them, for all he knew. Two names came to the forefront of his mind: Maxwell and Reuben. One or both of them had to be behind this. They were the only ones that hated him enough to do this. Logan also knew, but he loved him to bits!

 _Never mind,_ he thought. _The police should be left alone to do their job._ With that, Angelo went back to sleep, wanting to forget all of this was happening. It felt like his life really sucked.

* * *

The police were going through all the devices that belonged to all of the gang members in search of any clues, starting with the very first case that the New Wave of Intellect had claimed responsibility for. There was a sickening consistency with all of the kidnappings: all of them involved other teenagers giving the gang members information about the victims' daily routines and places they were most likely to be in. They finally got to the kidnapping of Angelo Riva, which wasn't hard to crack. The exchange had taken place all on one laptop, and the identity of the person giving the information to the kidnappers was quite quickly known.

"Hey, boss, we have ourselves a name. Some guy named Maxwell Norwood-Sykes," an officer reported. Chief Inspector Starling smirked. This would make his career, he just knew it. "Since he goes to the same school as the victim, finding him won't be that hard."

"You can go to the school tomorrow and bring him in for questioning, then," Superintendent Tanner told him.

"Which secondary school, though?" a rather dim-witted officer asked. Superintendent Tanner rolled his eyes.

"There's only one secondary school in the whole town. It's called Willowdale Secondary School. He has to be there," Superintendent Tanner snapped. "Now go home and get some rest."

"Yes, sir," his colleagues chorused as they left. Superintendent Tanner, however, stayed behind to stare at the name that came up. Maxwell Norwood-Sykes. It seemed like it would ring a bell to anyone that lived in the tiny town Angelo had been kidnapped in, but not to him.

"Maxwell Norwood-Sykes," he sighed. "We're coming for you."


	25. Apprehension

_Wednesday, June 4th_

* * *

Angelo woke up on Wednesday to the loud beeping sound of an alarm on his phone. But that couldn't be right. His phone was powered off and still charging. Oh, right . . . his watch. That was where the alarm was coming from. Of course it was.

"MAIA, for God's sake, shut off the alarm," Angelo ordered, and it stopped. Angelo sighed and got off the sofa, gathering his crutches and closing the door to the living room so he could get some privacy as he changed out of some green pyjamas into some loose black jeans (so the cast fit) and a belt to stop them from falling down, a plain black shirt with a single cartoon tree in the centre and a green turtleneck sweater (to hide all the love bites Logan had given him). Then he had to make himself breakfast, which was easy considering his dad kept some health bars in the kitchen cupboards (his father had gone on a diet, but had promptly forgotten about them the moment he saw pizza) and they weren't out of date yet. So he ate two of them, since he was so hungry.

"Hey, sweetie. Why are you up so early?" Angelo's mother asked, as Angelo ate the first of the two granola bars on the sofa.

"I've got to go to school," Angelo told her. This took the matriarch of the family by surprise.

"School? Are you sure? You know you should be resting," she persuaded. "If you don't want to go to school, it's OK. I'll call them and tell them that you can't go."

"But I've probably missed out on so much, and I'm bored at home," Angelo replied. "I just need to go upstairs and brush my teeth and pack my bag so I'm ready." The boy's mother wasn't quite sure if she should be allowing this, but it was what Angelo wanted to do. She rushed to help Angelo before he even tried to get up the stairs.

"Sweetie, stop that, let me help you," she insisted, as she let Angelo lean on her as they slowly walked up the stairs. It had to be slow, since Angelo was only able to use one leg. After that, Angelo brushed his teeth with his right hand while leaning against the wall with his left. It was a little difficult, but he'd have to get used to it. Then he had the issue of how he was going to get downstairs. Luckily, he would be sleeping downstairs until the cast came off so mobility was easier, but getting up and down the stairs after a shower seemed impossible. And how would he take a shower and take care of his own hygiene? These issues plagued him, but he'd have to drop them for now. He got out of the bathroom and leaned on his mother to go back downstairs. He took the crutches with him so his mother didn't make two journeys up and down the stairs.

"Get your shoes on, sweetie, and ask Logan if he'll walk you to school," Roselle told her son. Angelo reddened as he shoved books and his phone into his bag.

"I'll be fine," the genius huffed. That's when there was a knock on the door. Angelo's mother went to get it, and found Logan.

"Hello, Mrs Riva. Is Angelo ready?" Logan asked, looking like the typical caring boyfriend. Angelo got up immediately and got his school bag (a silver backpack with green trimming, a handle and wheels) and light grey coat. They left together, walking the relatively short distance to the school while Logan wheeled Angelo's bag with him. (Angelo insisted that he had everything under control, but Logan refused to take no for an answer from the stubborn, injured genius.) "Angelo, are you seriously only going because you miss school?"

"Yeah," the raven-haired genius admitted.

"What next? Are you going to miss homework, too?" Logan teased.

"Now that can't be possible. It's homework," Angelo blurted out. Logan grinned.

"Good to have you back, though," Logan greeted, making Angelo blush. A tiny smile graced his face.

"What did I do to get a boyfriend again?" Angelo asked.

"Let's get you to school before we're both late," Logan smiled. Angelo giggled and walked with him. Once they got to the school gates, they noticed it was awfully quiet in there. Normally, a school was filled with noise and commotion.

"Where is everyone?" Angelo asked. A weird thing that they had noticed was that nobody was outside, so they had to all be inside. Logan chuckled as he walked Angelo into the school. Everyone was inside, waiting for him to come in. All was quiet at first, but the amount of noise being heard picked up as they got closer to the doors. A dorky girl Angelo recognized from chemistry class pointed at him and squealed with glee.

"Oh my god, it's him! It's Angelo!" the girl screamed. Students cheered as Angelo came into view, accompanied by Logan. People hugged him and patted him on the back, whooping and celebrating now their hero was back. The boyfriend of the hero was unceremoniously pushed aside.

"You are such a badass! You took them all down!"

"Do you have any idea how cool you are?"

"We love you, Angelo!"

"I wish I was that brave!"

"Logan, since when was I cool?" Angelo muttered.

"It probably started with when you openly insulted Miss Turrets over the 'introduce yourself to the class' thing, then Maxwell, and remember when the Red Bandanas ripped your shirt off you and it revealed that you were actually ripped? Yeah, that helped a lot too." Logan nonchalantly narrated the entirety of Angelo's social standing at the school like it was nothing. "And then people found out that you were a genius inventor, and then-"

"Forget I asked," Angelo groaned. Logan smiled and took Angelo to registration, where nothing but cheering could be heard. He freaked out and whispered to Logan.

"Could we go somewhere quiet? This is far too loud," Angelo whispered. Logan nodded and was about to take the genius up the stairs when they were approached by Miss Turrets.

"You're going to need this until the cast comes off," she told Angelo, rather bluntly. The evil educator gave Angelo a lift pass, which he took and wore around his neck.

"Thank you, madam," Angelo sighed. "How are you?" This took everyone by surprise. Miss Turrets smiled and looked almost human.

"Oh, I've been better," Miss Turrets smiled. "But you know, I'm getting by." Logan was in shock. Miss Turrets seemed much nicer. He didn't have time to dwell on it before he had to get in the lift with Angelo to the floor their registration room was on. They got to the toilets, and Angelo dropped the façade. He freaked out as all the shouting got to him. Loud noises had never been good to him. Logan held him until he could finally calm down. That was when the babbling started.

"This is so weird," Angelo rambled. "I knew people liked me, but not that I was crazy popular! This can't be right! I'm not that popular!"

"Of course you're popular! Why wouldn't you be? You're smart and funny and humble and you messed with the teachers and those benefactor people judging the Invention Convention that nobody liked and now everyone knows that you're a hero!" Logan babbled.

"But I was never popular at my old school! I was the nerdy loser and kids made fun of me!" Angelo blurted out. "How am I popular here?"

"Angelo, it's a different school with different people and different mindsets," Logan explained. "And these people really, really like you!" Angelo smiled this big, adorable smile that made Logan feel light-headed.

"OK. I'll go inside," Angelo agreed. The two went inside and generally shocked people by just being there. The most shocked of them all was the resident snobby social outcast, Maxwell. He just couldn't believe that Angelo was back. Sure, he knew that he'd survived the kidnapping encounter and was in hospital for a while, but he had no idea that he'd be back so soon. The chubby blond just stared at Angelo as he hobbled into the room, surrounded by an entourage of admirers and well-wishers. Angelo was happy, smiling and laughing as the multitude of pens used to sign his cast tickled him senseless. Maxwell was the one that should have been smiling and surrounded by people, not that prick Angelo.

"I wish I never have to see Angelo Riva ever again," Maxwell muttered to Reuben, who was sitting behind him. He didn't even like Reuben any more, but he was still a good person to complain to when he was having a bad day. But Reuben wasn't having any of it this time around. He had become sick of Maxwell a long time ago.

"Be careful what you wish for, Maxwell," Reuben warned. "You never know what will happen to you in the future." Maxwell scoffed at this wise piece of advice.

"I already know how my life is going to go," Maxwell told him. "I'm going to be rich and inherit a furniture business and make more in one year than you will in ten! Don't give me advice, loser!"

"Look who's calling who a loser," Reuben snapped. The other geeks, who used to be on his side, grinned at Maxwell's defeat. This wasn't like Reuben at all. Normally, he just repeated whatever Maxwell said first. Maxwell huffed and waited for the day to be over and for him to go home. But that would never come for him. He got through the register just fine, but then he had to go to I.T class, which was noisy enough beforehand without the extra noise that idiot Angelo Riva would bring with him. God, he hated him so much.

"All right class, today, we will be going through the different types of coding used to make websites," Mr Daye introduced. "There's the easiest type of coding to learn, HTML, and actually . . . " As the enthusiastic teacher's voice echoed around the room, Logan went onto the computer to send a message to Angelo.

_Since when was Mr Daye a serious teacher? Normally, we can do what we want in his class and he doesn't care._

Angelo was quick to respond.

_How would I know the answer to that? I spent over two school days in a kidnapper's secret base and a week in a hospital bed. I should be asking you this._

Logan let out a snicker at Angelo's response, meaning he was targeted by the teacher.

"Logan, be quiet," Mr Daye reprimanded, before going back to teaching. "You will be doing a presentation on three different types of coding that are to be handed in either during the lesson or next week as homework." Students groaned. "I'll let you listen to music, but only if you have headphones. The entire class doesn't need to hear dubstep or whatever you kids listen to nowadays. Now get to work." Students rolled their eyes and plugged in headphones to listen to music as they worked, although some exclusively listened to music. A lot more work was done then than before, and Mr Daye looked on with pride. He was so proud of himself for being a stricter teacher and not being ignored by the students. He vowed to continue this method in future with all his students in order to teach kids the joys of computers, the internet and how to use both to your advantage.

* * *

At break, an awful lot of people wanted to sign Angelo's cast, as word had spread about how insanely ticklish he was and how fun it was to exploit it. The worst part was Angelo was in no position to get away, since Logan had his crutches, thinking it was adorable to watch him squirm and plead.

"Nohohohohohohohohoho! Logan, off!" Angelo pleaded. "Get away from there!"

"Daww, aren't you cute?" Logan sighed, poking and prodding the ribs of his dorky boyfriend. "I wish I could do this to you forever, Angelo."

"Lohohohohohogahahahahan, plehehehehehehease!" Angelo giggled, blushing madly as Logan snuggled close to Angelo and grabbed bits of ticklish flesh. "Stohohohohohop!" Logan stopped torturing his boyfriend, only to grab a pen and test it on his hand to see if it worked. It didn't. It seemed to be out of ink.

"Dammit, it's not working!" Logan huffed. Angelo was relieved, but that wouldn't last long. "Never mind. This means that I can use it all over your foot and not draw over the other signatures. So I guess it works out." Angelo was terrified. He now knew to never leave his boyfriend alone with any pen, working or not.

"Nonononononono! Plehehehehehease! It tickles!" Angelo giggled, squirming and trying to get away. But he couldn't get to his crutches, so that wasn't going to work.

"You are so cute," Logan grinned, hugging him. His blue eyes sparkled with mischief. "I'm really not sure why I should stop. You're just precious." Angelo was just so embarrassed by the situation, but couldn't find it in himself to get mad at him. He was so tiny and cuddly and affectionate.

"Now all of you need to stop making so much noise or get out!" the librarian ordered. The teenagers sighed and backed off, leaving Angelo to catch his breath.

"Thank . . . imaginary . . . God . . . for that," he panted, as he barely registered that Logan was nudging him. "What?"

"You have to get to PE now, Angelo," Logan told him. But both of them knew the moment it came out of Logan's mouth that Angelo couldn't possibly participate. He had a broken leg now.

"No, _you_ have to get to PE now," Angelo corrected, grinning. "I'll be sitting on the bench. Have fun running laps."

"You smug son of a bitch," Logan sighed, punching Angelo's shoulder. Angelo stumbled a little, and the two laughed. "How are you smug about this already?"

"I wasn't smug already, but I had some time to think about it while stuck in a hospital bed, and then I was smug," Angelo explained. "My dad said that if the teacher really wanted me to do PE despite the broken leg, then I could give him a newspaper cutting of my kidnapping and use it as a sick note. Or maybe the entire newspaper." Logan laughed. And then he thought about who else was most likely to be out of PE, and he wasn't laughing any more.

"Just don't make Maxwell mad," Logan warned, his smile now gone.

"Why and how would I make Maxwell mad?" Angelo asked. "He should be with everyone else doing laps, right?"

"He's usually missing out on PE for some reason, and now you're out, he'll probably be sitting next to you," Logan clarified. "So this isn't going to end well if you get on each other's nerves." Angelo nodded in understanding.

"Fine. But if he starts anything with me, I'm not responsible," Angelo compromised. Logan agreed, and they went to the PE office. What they didn't know was that Coach Hurley could see them from the PE office and sent them back to the changing rooms.

"Everybody knows how you broke your leg, kid. Don't even go there," the teacher sighed, sticking his head out of the door to talk to them. Angelo grinned and went right back to the changing rooms, bumping into Maxwell on the way.

"Oh. Hello, Maxwell," Angelo greeted. He didn't like Maxwell, but he felt ignoring him was rude.

"Hello there, former kidnapping victim," Maxwell sneered. "How come they didn't kill you while they had the chance?" A week's worth of rage spilled out of his mouth, and he didn't even care. It wasn't his fault! The stupid New Wave of Intellect should've killed Angelo and they didn't! They made him mad! Logan and Angelo stared at him with utter horror. How could one person be so horrible?

"Leave my boyfriend alone!" Logan ordered. He was trying to protect Angelo, but he was ignored by both of them.

"I just wanted to say hello," the confused robotics expert said. But Maxwell wasn't done just yet.

"And I just wanted to say that you should never have gotten out of there alive!" Maxwell shrieked. "Don't you know what happens to the kids they kidnap? They die! You should have died when they took you away!"

"Actually, the New Wave of Intellect don't kill the kids they abduct," Angelo corrected. "I've been doing research on the people they kidnap and they are never murdered. All they want is their knowledge and for them to do what they want, and a dead genius can't do any work for them. So they couldn't have killed me, even if they wanted to." The knowledge that Angelo had proven him wrong made Maxwell simmer with anger. He couldn't possibly claim superiority by being smarter with Angelo, so he went with the cruel and demeaning approach instead.

"Don't get smart with me, Angelo. Isn't that the reason why you got taken?" Maxwell snubbed. "Honestly, between you and me, they should come and get you a second time. You're beginning to annoy me." Angelo and Logan were extremely disturbed. Maxwell was basically insinuating that if Angelo annoyed him enough, he'd be kidnapped again. And the thought of that to Angelo was naturally scary.

"I can't deal with you right now. Logan, let's get to PE," Angelo insisted. They wanted to leave it alone, but the chubby blond bully wouldn't let them.

"Hey, don't just walk away from me!" the brat snapped, running forwards to kick Angelo's crutches out from under him. He was almost there, but just as he was about to do it, Coach Hurley saw them.

"Maxwell! Leave Angelo and Logan alone!" he ordered, his booming voice echoing around the school halls. The couple smiled at the teacher before splitting up and going to the changing rooms.

"There he is!" Jay whooped as Angelo came into the boys' changing rooms, and everything happened so fast. Before he knew it, he was being picked up and paraded through the small boys' changing room. His crutches lay abandoned on the floor only a few metres away from him. But to Angelo, he and the crutches were separated by an ocean of linoleum.

"You really don't need to do this," Angelo insisted, while he was placed on a bench. "I'm really not that important."

"How are you this modest?" Logan smiled, as he gave Angelo his crutches back. "You came to school after a week in the hospital caused by having your leg broken by an anti-government maniac who was mad at you for sabotaging their plans. How badass is that?" Maxwell, sitting at the back, scoffed at the situation as he put the finishing touches on his (fake) excusatory note.

"Before we get started playing tennis, I'd like to see sick notes from those who have them, since most of you look perfectly fine to me," Coach Hurley demanded.

"Hey, what about Angelo?" Maxwell asked, pointing at the injured prodigy.

"Well, he did say most of you, not all of you," Angelo admitted. "And the whole country knows how I broke my leg, so I guess I don't need a sick note if it's already all over the news."

"Thank you, resident voice of reason," Coach Hurley acknowledged. "So, who has a sick note to hand over?"

"I do," Maxwell admitted, handing over his forgery.

"Yeah, this is fine," Coach Hurley told him, not giving the note a second look. Angelo gave the teacher his doctor's note excluding him from physical activity. "Good, Angelo. I already know what happened, but the note always helps." Angelo smiled innocently, but Maxwell hated him even more.

The other kids went out and ran laps while Angelo and Maxwell sat on opposite ends of a bench next to a bucketful of tennis balls and rackets. This went on peacefully for about five seconds until Angelo had an idea. He'd learned how to juggle to entertain his little sister, and he had plenty of balls here, so why not use them? He picked up one ball and tossed it in the air, then did the same to another ball, then moved on to three. Yeah, he still had it, and he demonstrated it shamelessly while other kids were becoming sweaty and hopelessly jealous. He was about to see if he could handle four, but then Maxwell decided enough was enough and told on him. He was willing to tell on just about anyone, but he got a special sort of pleasure out of telling on Angelo because . . . well, it was Angelo.

"Sir! Sir! Angelo's juggling the tennis balls!" Maxwell eagerly informed, relishing the chance to get the boy he hated into trouble. "He's doing it right now! Can you see him?"

"Angelo!" Coach Hurley yelled. "Put the tennis balls down!" Angelo jumped and dropped the tennis balls with shock.

"Yes, sir!" he blurted out. Maxwell smirked.

"Now that's funny!" the blond fatty giggled. Angelo glared at him from the bench. He was going to be so bored this lesson. Nothing interesting ever happened during tennis except for the sound of a ball hitting a racket, then flying the other way, then hitting another racket on the other end of the court. Nothing interesting was going to happen.

And that was when the police came to the tennis courts. The teenagers stopped and stared as two male PCSOs walked on in full uniform. Everyone dropped everything just to stare at them. Coach Hurley had to order them to continue playing as he went over to the officers to talk, out of earshot of the students, except for Angelo and Maxwell. Their position sitting on the bench meant they heard everything they were saying.

"Gentlemen, is there a problem?" Coach Hurley asked.

"We would like to know if you have a student in your class called Maxwell Norwood-Sykes," the first officer requested. "We'd like to talk to him." Maxwell felt a chill go down his spine.

"Yes, he's here," Coach Hurley affirmed. "Maxwell, these officers want to talk to you." Everyone stared as Maxwell made the walk of shame to the officers. He tried to keep his head up, but the shame of it all was too much. It forced his head down, made him stare at the floor as it seemed to shift under his feet. Maxwell Norwood-Sykes, the son of a rich furniture store owner, was being questioned by the police? That just didn't happen to people like him! They were respectable people, pillars of society! Why couldn't they arrest somebody else? This wasn't supposed to be happening to him!

But it was, and there was nothing he could do about it. He trudged over to the police officers and looked up at them.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" he asked, knowing full well why they had come to the school.

"It's regarding the kidnap of Angelo Riva," the first officer told him. "We have reason to believe that they were only able to find him because of you."

"And why do you think that?" Maxwell asked snootily.

"We've linked your email address and phone number to a chatroom that the New Wave of Intellect is known to frequent," the second officer related. The blood was drained out of Maxwell's face, and the snooty attitude faded fast. The arrogant little brat now knew that they meant business. "There happens to be frequent messages between you and another account that is used by the gang used to kidnap Angelo Riva shortly before the kidnapping took place. Maybe you'd like to explain them to us. Down at the police station."

"I haven't done anything!" Maxwell proclaimed. The officers didn't buy a word of it.

"Maxwell Norwood-Sykes, I am arresting you for solicitation of kidnapping and grievous bodily harm," one officer droned, reading Maxwell his rights as handcuffs clicked into place. "You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something you may later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence." Overwhelmed at being arrested, all Maxwell could do was bawl. He cried his eyes out while his classmates looked on in shock before putting everything together. Maxwell had sold Angelo out to a bunch of gang members on the internet! Angelo felt sick when he thought about how he'd sat right next to the guy that had betrayed him, exposing him to what the police and his parents had tried to protect him from all the time. The booing started as Maxwell was hauled away into an out of sight police car. This was going to be all over the news soon, make no mistake. If Angelo's kidnapping made world news, then the arrest of his kidnappers and anyone who helped them would also make headlines.

* * *

Meanwhile, over at the Norwood-Sykes household, the maids and Maxwell's parents were in another room, utterly terrified as police officers raided the property for any and all signs that Maxwell was involved. "You can't do this! This is our home!" Mrs Norwood-Sykes sobbed.

"Where's the search warrant? I demand to see the search warrant!" Mr Norwood-Sykes snapped. One was quickly produced and handed over to the irate man of the house, pacifying him as Maxwell's laptop and multiple discarded phones were taken away for forensic testing. The laptop would be where they found the damning messages, but the real gold was when they found the little slip of paper that Maxwell used to write down his username and password. All they had to do was test the username and password to see if it matched the account used to send such messages. "Where's Maxwell gone? Where's my boy?"

"He's at the police station, waiting to be questioned. He's under eighteen, so he can't be questioned without parents or legal guardians there," Chief Inspector Clark Starling explained. He knew the parents of the kid who basically sold out his classmate hadn't done anything wrong, but they were being loud and unpredictable, meaning they were getting on his nerves.

"Get the chauffeur to drive us there. We need to see our son! We can't let him be interrogated without a lawyer present!" Mr Norwood-Sykes demanded, making his wife run to find the chauffeur so they could be taken to see their only son, possibly for the last time before he ended up behind bars for soliciting Angelo Riva's kidnapping. Maxwell was under eighteen, so his parents would be there for the questioning and court date (not that they thought there would be one, since their son would never do anything like that). Their lawyer, a Mr Jeremiah Quentin Coburn, came in to the police station at their request. He was in his fifties but looked like he was seventy-five, with nearly no hair on his head and bags under his eyes, marring the rest of his pale, wrinkled face. He would be representing Maxwell until the charges were dropped and went into the interviewing room with the parents. The seasoned lawyer was confident that his client would be found not guilty because of his age. He could easily claim that the boy was groomed online by the members and claim to be not guilty due to diminished responsibility and knowledge. Besides, he'd never seen the word kidnap in the messages sent to and by Maxwell.

"Sean and Candi Norwood-Sykes, I must inform you that this police interview is being filmed and this interview may be used as evidence in court. Do you understand and consent to this on his behalf?" Chief Inspector Clark Starling asked. Superintendent Tanner accompanied him. Interrogation policies mandated that two police officers be in an interview at all times.

"Yes," they chorused. Maxwell's mother sounded tearful. His father was much more stoic. The lawyer was intrigued at how it would turn out. Hopefully, he wouldn't say anything incriminating that would hinder his case. The camera was turned on, and they begun.

"Maxwell, do you have any idea who the New Wave of Intellect are?" Chief Inspector Clark Starling interrogated.

"O-only from the news," Maxwell told them, looking tearful in front of the camera. But the police knew to ignore crocodile tears from teenagers in trouble.

"What was your relationship with Angelo Riva, the victim?" the superintendent pressed on.

"He was in a few of my classes. We didn't get along," Maxwell admitted. "He thought I was stuck-up and rude, and I had to get him back for that."

"By giving his details to a radical group known for kidnapping kids around the world?"

"No!" Maxwell wasn't about to give himself up that easily. "Just little things . . . like taking a picture of him and his boyfriend and posting it to the school website. And once, I told people to search up his name. Everyone found out that he was a genius." Maxwell knew that he was on thin ice already, and he wasn't exactly the most innocent of teenagers. Well, not any more, anyway. His reputation of being a good, reliable kid was history. The boy's mother sobbed hysterically as she heard about how her sweet angel wasn't such a sweet angel after all. His father became pale. Jeremiah began to worry. Maybe this wouldn't be so easy for him.

"So your actions have endangered his safety before," the hardened policeman mused. "You really don't like this kid, do you? What did Angelo do to you to make it acceptable for you to notify kidnappers of his location?"

"I didn't do it! I would never do anything that serious, even to Angelo, and he was horrible! He made everyone hate me because they all thought he was cooler than me! When I heard that he was gone, I thought people would like me better! I'm the smart one! They should like me! I've always been there and he's been there since, what, a month or so! And all of a sudden he's the coolest person they know because he's smart! I'm smart too! Why don't they see that?" Maxwell screamed, finally becoming completely unhinged. His mother sobbed at what her son had become, and his father put his head in his hands. Maxwell wasn't the popular, outgoing boy he thought he was. He was hated, he was a bully, and he was going insane with jealousy over a person he could never compete with.

"And you thought if he was gone, people would like you more? So Angelo going away was basically you getting rid of a competitor?" Chief Inspector Clark Starling asked. He was keeping up an air of professionalism, but inside he was thinking about how bringing down the most dangerous criminal organization in the world was going to define his career. He could just imagine some reporter asking him what it was like to raid their base. It would probably be a pretty female reporter, too. But back to the interview.

"So did you or did you not hand over information to a chatroom account used by the New Wave of Intellect that would be vital to successfully capturing Angelo Riva?" Superintendent Tanner snapped.

"No!" Maxwell yelled. His mother was sobbing onto his father's shoulder, who seemed like he was about to collapse. Jeremiah looked like he would be sick. Both of them knew, in that horrible moment, that their son was responsible, but would never admit to what he had done. He had his father's stubborn streak and his mother's strong sense of entitlement, and that was a truly toxic combination.

"Then explain the messages from a Reddit account linked to your email address telling an account controlled by the New Wave of Intellect that you knew a child genius, and his name was Angelo Riva. Explain the bookmarked pages on your phone of their propaganda website. Explain the account giving a photograph of Angelo Riva and disclosing the name of his school. And explain why you started the conversation. The way I see it, you've got a lot of explaining to do." Superintendent Tanner leaned forwards, staring into Maxwell's cold blue eyes.

"This has been a set-up. You-you planted the evidence on my computer! Just because I never liked that asshole doesn't mean it was me!" Maxwell screamed.

"Maxwell, honey, tell them everything you know," Candi sniffled. Her mascara had run down her face and she had snot running down her nose.

"Son, it'll be OK. I got you a good lawyer, Jeremiah Coburn. He'll get you off on a technicality, I just know it," Sean promised. Maxwell just got even angrier. It seemed like his own parents didn't believe him.

"Why don't you believe me?" Maxwell screamed, attempting to attack his own mother. It was his father who help him back.

"How dare you attack your own mother!" he roared. He raised his hand to hit Maxwell, who cowered with fear. By that time, father and son had to be separated.

"Maxwell Norwood-Sykes, you will be held on remand while the case against you mounts," Chief Inspector Clark Starling told him. "You will be housed in the Blackwater Institution for Young Offenders until the date of your trial. Do you understand?" Maxwell went from being enraged to bawling in the space of a few seconds. He could barely speak, he could only wail and shake his head.

"Don't take me away! Please! They'll kill me!" Maxwell blubbered.

"I want my son!" Candi bawled. "Please, just put him on house arrest so I can watch over him!" The policemen shook their heads.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but your son has aided and abetted a gang of kidnappers. House arrest is not an option we can afford to give him," Superintendent Tanner told the crying woman. "Come on, Maxwell."

"I want to go home!" Maxwell howled, as he was taken away, without a final look at his broken parents. Jeremiah, after briefly nodding to the boy's father, went back to his office to compile what he'd seen into some sort of a defence. Once they were the only ones left in the interviewing room, they too got up and left.

* * *

Meanwhile, Angelo was being walked home by Logan. They were arguing over whether or not Logan should carry Angelo's bag. "Angelo, it's really no trouble," Logan insisted. "You don't have to be so damn stubborn all the time."

"I have it under control," Angelo sighed.

"Both of your hands are otherwise occupied. I'll do it for you," Logan told him.

"Logan, you really don't have to." Angelo seemed to be tired of protesting. "That's MAIA's job."

"Why?" Logan asked.

"MAIA, activate the hovering ability on my bag," Angelo instructed, and the bag began to float. Angelo had fitted a drone to it and linked it to MAIA so he could control it with his voice. "Lock on to my watch and follow it until I say otherwise." Logan glared at him.

"If you could do that, why did you let me carry it the whole time all around the school?" Logan huffed.

"I did tell you that I had it all under control, but you just thought I was being stubborn and ignored me," Angelo pointed out. He had a point. Logan sighed and, in a move that surprised Angelo, he kissed him. The genius yelped with surprise before returning it, and Logan grinned. Pepsi was outside (it was a nice day outside) and barked happily at the couple.

"Hey, Pepsi!" Logan greeted, rubbing the dog's tummy. "So your parents are home, right?" he said to Angelo.

"They said they would be," Angelo admitted. "They haven't been working late so much any more. I think it's because I have a broken leg."

"I'm not surprised," Logan mused. "You need lots of TLC, you know."

"What's TLC?" Angelo asked. Logan giggled.

"It stands for Tender Loving Care, of course," Logan explained casually, making Angelo blush hard. "And you're going to need a lot of it." Angelo blushed beetroot red as he went to knock on the door. His father answered it, expecting to see someone giving him gifts on behalf of his son. He'd been receiving a lot of those lately. Seeing Angelo made his eyes light up with joy as he scooped up his injured son.

"Angelo!" Bonaventura greeted, snuggling close to the boy that he had almost lost. "Thank you, Logan, for walking Angelo home. Come in, both of you. I have pizza." The teenagers went in and made themselves comfortable on the sofa. His father left the house to collect Mirella. They were all alone.

"Your dad's nice," Logan mused.

"He likes you because you're being a good boyfriend to his youngest son. And he insists on giving me big meals now for some reason," Angelo mused. "He says I'm skinny."

"Angelo, you're not skinny. You have a freaking six-pack, for crying out loud," Logan sighed.

"Tell that to my family," Angelo sighed. "They say I'm skinny one minute, then tell me to give my cousin fitness tips because I'm in such good shape. The only real tip I had for him was stop eating chocolate doughnuts for breakfast and then he could get back to me. They told me to stop being so unrealistic."

"Seriously?" Logan asked. "Why is family so weird?"

"I've been asking that question since I was four," Angelo sighed. "Where's the pizza? I'm hungry."

"I'll get it," Logan volunteered, as he went into the kitchen to get a fourteen-inch pepperoni pizza, already cut into slices. "This is a pretty big pizza, you know."

"Yeah. Normally, my dad only lets us have pizza on Sundays or school holidays. He's let me have it whenever I want ever since I got out of hospital." The genius stared at the pizza longingly. Logan was instantly jealous.

"I wish you stared at me the way you stared at pizza," Logan sighed.

"I do, but that's usually when you're not looking," Angelo nonchalantly replied.

"Sweet talker." Logan took a big bite of the pizza. It was good . . . really good. Angelo slowly ate one slice of pizza, while Logan worked his way through four. By the time the redhead had eaten four, Angelo was halfway through his second. "How are you such a slow eater?"

"How did you eat four slices of a fourteen-inch pizza in fifteen minutes?" Angelo asked.

"Fifteen minutes? It can't have been such a short amount of time."

"We started eating at 4:15, Logan. Now it's 4:30 and you ate four slices of pizza." Angelo was right. Logan blushed.

"I'm just a little hungry," Logan justified.

"You're a little hungry. Yeah, and I'm blonde." Angelo rolled his eyes and smiled, turning on the TV and finding that the most recent channel was the news. Angelo was about to change it when they saw something they never thought they would see.

Maxwell Lacey Norwood-Sykes, their former tormentor, was on the news. The video of him had to have been taken when he was in a police station being interrogated, with both of his parents there.

"This just in: the informant hiding under everyone's noses, fifteen-year-old Maxwell Norwood-Sykes, has been found after chat room messages were traced back to a laptop owned by him. It has now emerged that the dangerous criminal gang that called themselves the New Wave of Intellect would use fellow students working alongside the victims to give away their locations to them. Police are now conducting investigations into previous cases involving this politically-minded gang." There was a still image of Maxwell being interrogated in the corner. The boyfriends were shocked.

"Holy jumping fucking shit! I knew he was crazy enough to stalk me and take photos of me kissing you, but I didn't know he was crazy enough to contact an international criminal gang!" Angelo blurted out. "And where do you get information like that?"

"This guy's in prison, right?" Logan asked, terrified.

"Not prison, he's only fifteen and prison is for eighteen and up. He's probably inside some juvenile detention centre," Angelo replied.

"For now, Norwood-Sykes will be kept in Blackwater Institution for Young Offenders until his case goes to trial," the correspondent on the TV seemed to reply, confirming Angelo's suspicions. Logan gasped.

"Blackwater!" he gasped. "Maxwell ended up in Blackwater! Holy shit, this is crazy!"

"What is it about Blackwood or whatever it's called that makes you say the name of that place like a thirteen-year-old saying Bloody Mary in front of a mirror?" Angelo asked.

"I don't know! Nobody does! That's the thing about Blackwater! It's super secretive and nobody ever has any idea what goes on in there!" Logan yelled. He snuggled close to Angelo, scared. Angelo hugged him and changed the channel. They'd seen enough of Maxwell today. "Oh, look, cute puppies," Logan sighed. "Can we have one, Angelo?"

"We already have Pepsi. It wouldn't be fair to get rid of him for a younger dog," Angelo explained. Logan sighed as he tried to feed Angelo a third slice of pizza. There were ten slices in total and Logan had eaten the other seven. Angelo had had two. This was the last slice and it would be greedy of Logan to eat it when he had had more food. But Angelo refused, turning the tables and trying to feed the last slice to his boyfriend.

"Here you go, skinny little leprechaun," Angelo cooed, holding the pizza slice to Logan's lips. "Eat up. You could do with some meat on your bones." The smell of the cheesy, pepperoni-covered pizza wafted up Logan's nose and clouded his judgement. Now he felt hungry all over again. So he took the pizza slice from Angelo and ate it. He snuggled close to Angelo and nipped at his neck, making him giggle and purr. The genius offered his neck up to the artist, which he was all too happy to cover in hickeys, the way he had done to him. Soon, his hands began to wander, and they both eventually rested on his ass.

"Oh, this feels amazing to hold, you know that?" Logan whispered. "Makes me wonder why I limited myself to just staring. You are ever so gorgeous, and I only get to appreciate it when you're on your back, purring like a tractor. Does this feel good?" Angelo nodded frantically, and that was when Logan decided to quiet him. It was only supposed to last long enough for him to have a little fun with his boyfriend. So Logan got a nearby tissue and stuffed it in his mouth. It was perfect. All nice and quiet, blushing like mad. His neck was covered in hickeys now, dark red ones that he would try his hardest to cover up the next day. Logan grinned at his handiwork.

The distinct plod of footsteps coming downstairs startled them, and the teenagers scrambled to cover up what they'd been doing. Angelo threw the tissue away and Logan sat next to him as if nothing had happened. Santo came downstairs wearing a white T-shirt and denim jeans and got himself an apple. "Oh. Hey, you two," Santo sighed. "Did I interrupt something?"

"No," they blurted out. Santo shook his head at them, snickering as he got a pen out of his pocket.

"Logan, move over, I need to sign Angelo's cast and I can see a blank space that's just big enough for what I have in mind," Santo ordered. Logan obliged. "Angelo, lie on your stomach across the whole sofa and hold still." With Santo's help, Angelo made sure to lie across the whole sofa to help Santo with whatever he had in mind. Santo moved Angelo's legs and placed them on his lap, pen poised and ready. Logan knew exactly what was going on, while Angelo was adorably oblivious.

"What's going on?" he asked, suspecting nothing. Santo chuckled.

"Just writing something on your cast. Don't worry about it," Santo told him, as he started scribbling something on the cast. Angelo lost. His. Mind.

"GAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!" Angelo screamed, as Santo continued to scribble. His legs kicked, but Santo kept a strong grip on them. "SANTO!"

"Aww, so cute," Santo taunted. "Hold still, dork, I'm nowhere near done." The horrible pen touched down on the cast once more, and Angelo began to beg.

"PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE! IHIHIHIHIHIHIT TICKLES SOHOHOHOHOHOHO MUCH!" Angelo pleaded. One arm hammered on the seat of the couch and hot tears of laughter tricked down his cheeks. "JUST MAKE IT STOP!"

"Sheesh, Angelo, you've got it so bad," Santo teased. "It'll stop soon, I promise. I just have a few more words to write." The pen scribbled over Angelo's leg, and the tired little inventor could only laugh. Squirming was out of the question now. Eventually, finally, it stopped. Santo stared at his handiwork with glee.

"What does it say?" Angelo asked, once he got his breath back. Logan looked at it and was unable to contain his laughter.

"It says . . ." Logan paused to giggle, "'I, Santo Riva, swear on my life that my geeky younger brother, Angelo Riva, is incredibly ticklish on his ribs, stomach, underarms, neck, knees and feet. I also give whoever just read or heard this permission to torture him for as long as you can on my behalf.'" Logan grinned deviously. "And I just read that."

"So did I," Santo replied. Angelo gulped as he put two and two together. His lips quivered upwards into a nervous smile.

"Do you have to?" Angelo whimpered. Santo and Logan grinned, and the next few minutes were a blur. Logan stuck his fingers into Angelo's armpits and just listened to the screams of laughter. Santo got his brother's feet. The hysterical begging got louder, and louder, before it eventually stopped. The laughter became silent, and both knew they had to stop. They finally let Angelo breathe, and he gasped like a fish out of water, taking in ragged breaths. Angelo's eyelids drooped with fatigue and he tried to curl up into a ball.

"What's up with you?" Logan teased, snuggling his dork of a boyfriend.

"You tired me out," Angelo sighed. Logan snickered.

"Why did I bother going in here?" Santo groaned.

"Beats the hell out of me," Angelo murmured. Santo rolled his eyes before leaving, going back to his room. He would be leaving soon to go back to his military base anyway. The sweethearts watched TV together, comfortable in the knowledge that they wouldn't have to move or be separated by anyone. Time flew by, and Logan's phone rang. It was Caleb.

"Hey, Logan, Mum wants you home for lunch or she's feeding it to me," Caleb told him. "You need to get home."

"Fine," Logan huffed, hanging up. "I have to go, Angelo. I'll pick you up tomorrow."

"Bye, Logan," Angelo sighed, waving. Logan waved back and left. Angelo sat back and thought about how amazing Logan was. He was so lucky to have him in his life. And with that, Angelo fell asleep.


	26. Descent of the media

_Thursday, June 5th_

* * *

The day after Maxwell's arrest, news crews surrounded both the Norwood-Sykes and Riva households. This led to a serious problem for Angelo. How was he supposed to get to school like this? Logan also wondered about this as he pushed and shoved through the crowd, ignoring the flashing lights and shouting people outside his boyfriend's door.

"Angelo Riva, what do you have to say about the arrest of Maxwell Norwood-Sykes concerning your abduction?" one reporter asked. Logan shoved him aside to get to the door. "Hey! Watch where you're going, kid!" he snapped. "This is going to make my career!"

"I just want to see Angelo. I promised that I'd walk him to school," Logan said, pushing and shoving to get to the door. "Angelo? Angelo? You're gonna be late!" He pounded on the door. Angelo showed up, wearing a black hoodie that said NO PHOTOS in block white capital letters and the same loose black jeans with a belt to hold them up.

"Hey, leprechaun," Angelo smiled, completely ignoring the reporters. "How are you?"

"I'm good," Logan smiled. "Now come on, we need to get going now or we'll be late for school."

"Do you think we could stop at a coffee shop on the way? I'm a little drowsy from having to wake up so early," Angelo requested. Logan sighed and shook his head.

"There's a coffee machine at school. Use that," Logan replied. Angelo sighed and nodded.

"Fine," the inventor sighed. "Let's just go." As the two left, Angelo whispered, "MAIA, activate the hovering ability on my bag."

"Yes, Angelo," the artificially intelligent assistant replied, as the bag hovered next to Angelo's shoulder and followed him to school. The news crew just couldn't get enough of this, as they zoomed in on the hovering bag and the two boys walking to school with their cameras. Angelo rolled his eyes.

"Thank you for tolerating that," Angelo apologized. "News crews outside your house first thing in the morning when a guy has to get to school is something that should be banned."

"I know," Logan sighed, before realizing what he was saying. How was he finding this relatable? The news crews came after Angelo got here. There was no way he should be relating to this so much! "When do you think they'll go away?"

"Not for a while," Angelo sighed. "It's so annoying. When I was younger, my mother would keep me and Santo inside so they couldn't talk to us. But we're older and she can't keep us inside any longer because we've got places to go and keeping us inside isn't an option."

"So what does she do now?"

"Watch them from inside the house and contemplate throwing eggs at them to send them away," Angelo nonchalantly replied. Logan giggled. They turned the corner and got to the school gates, expecting to see a bunch of kids happy to see them. They saw yet another news crew waiting outside. The teenage prodigy groaned. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"I wish I was," Logan groaned. "Just ignore them." They tried to go around the mob, but they couldn't. A reporter tapped Angelo's shoulder to ask a question.

"Anita Crap, reporting for The Daily Griffin. Could you answer a few questions?" the woman asked.

"I have to get to school, so no," Angelo replied. "And if I really have to answer questions, could you write me a note explaining why I was late? It's for my teacher so I don't get detention."

"I don't have the time to do something so stupid!" Anita snapped.

"What a coincidence, neither do I," Angelo smartly replied, as he turned to leave. But it seemed that the famous Anita Crap wasn't done with him yet.

"Hey, brat, I have a few questions for you!" she yelled, grabbing him by his hoodie. She had intended to just pull him over to her, but she actually just ended up pulling him to the ground. Everything happened really quickly after that.

"Leave him alone!" Logan yelled, checking on Angelo. "You OK?"

"I've been better," Angelo admitted. "Where are my crutches?"

"Right here," Logan replied, handing over the crutches. "Come on, we've got to go before you get another broken leg." The two left, much to the chagrin of the other reporters. There went their biggest scoop, and it was all Anita Crap's fault.

"Thanks a lot, lady!" some guy yelled. "Where do you expect me to get a statement from now?" As people yelled at Anita, Logan and Angelo got to school at long last. Everyone was talking about how Maxwell was finally gone, and the huge mass of paparazzi outside the school.

"Holy shit, Angelo! Did you see the people with cameras and microphones?" Jay asked. Angelo nodded.

"Yeah, one of them grabbed me by my hoodie and pulled me to the floor," Angelo replied. "Honestly, it's times like this when being me sucks. Paparazzi are swarming this place like moths to a flame. And if they're here, then they're also at Maxwell's house trying to get his parents to say something in front of the cameras."

"Why would they be at Maxwell's house?" Logan asked.

"Why wouldn't they be?" Angelo retorted. "They want to talk to as many people that were involved in this kidnapping as they can, and that would naturally include Maxwell's parents. Think about it. The kidnapping of a child prodigy has taken place, all the main kidnappers are in prison, and their informant goes to the same school as the victim, is under eighteen and is now in prison. The kidnapping victim and the informant's parents are all in one town. This is easy pickings."

"Fine. You kind of have a point," Logan huffed. "Come on. We're going to be late." Logan walked with Angelo to registration, where they were immediately confronted by the demonic teacher, Miss Turrets.

"You're late. What's your excuse?" she asked. "Make it good. I've heard it all before and I'd like to hear a more original one."

"There was a news crew outside my house," Angelo told her. The teacher's jaw dropped. "Hey, you wanted an original excuse, right? How many other kids have told you this first thing in the morning?"

"P-prove it," Miss Turrets spluttered. Angelo got out his phone and showed a picture of a mass of reporters and cameras outside his house, taken from his room. Out of pure shock, she nodded and excused them. This just wasn't something you saw every day.

"And by the way, there's a bunch of them outside wanting to talk to me. That's probably going to make a lot of people late," Angelo notified.

"O-OK. Thanks for telling me. I am going to notify Mrs Josephson about this. Talk amongst yourselves, but do not leave this room," Miss Turrets nervously ordered, before half-walking, half-sprinting towards the headteacher's office to prep her boss about the most unexpected situation they would ever have to deal with in the school's history.

"How did they find out where you lived?" Logan asked.

"I don't know, and it scares the living crap out of me," Angelo admitted. "I just want them to leave me and my family alone."

"I know," Logan sighed, patting Angelo's shoulder. "It's not even like you asked for this, anyway. You're admittedly not a normal person and you can't help that, but this is sickening."

"Thanks, leprechaun," Angelo sighed. Logan glared at him and squeezed his sides in retaliation. Angelo suddenly straightened up and squealed. People stared at them. "What are you doing, Logan?" His face was a picture of fear and apprehension.

"It's not my fault you're so ticklish," Logan grinned. "You're just so cute and so, so screwed. Squeal for me, Angelo." The rest of the class were becoming rather interested in this. Exploiting such an adorable weakness was quite funny.

"How are you so mean?" Angelo whimpered, blushing madly. "Get off!"

"Not until you tell me why you keep calling me leprechaun," Logan told them. "You know I find it annoying. So why do you do it?"

"Because you're really short, ginger and Irish," Angelo told him, nonchalantly. Logan glared at him and stuck his hands underneath Angelo's hoodie so he could tease Angelo even more. Besides, the teacher wasn't there and nobody who was there wanted this to stop, except for Angelo, who was basically incapacitated. So who was going to stop him?

"And any other reasons why you keep calling me a leprechaun?" Logan asked. Steady giggles poured out of Angelo's mouth and he blurted out a final answer.

"And when you're around, magic happens," Angelo admitted. Logan started toying with his sleeve, looking away as his face reddened.

"Smart move," Melissa commented. "Logan, he's a keeper."

"Gee, you think?" Logan sarcastically remarked. "He's adorable, smart, a sweet talker and stubborn!"

"I'm not stubborn!" Angelo huffed. Logan giggled.

"I rest my case," Logan sighed. A moment of confusion crossed Angelo's face before he realized what he'd just said and groaned with humiliation.

"Now I know that being sent to an elite private school really messed up my social skills," Angelo groaned. "I don't even know how I have a boyfriend sometimes."

"I think I could give you a good reason," Logan suggested, pulling out a mirror. Yeah, that dark red blush wasn't going away any time soon. Oh, well, it couldn't possibly get any worse, right? There was no real way to tell just how wrong he was.

Until double art came along.

* * *

"Hey, Logan, where's the chalk?" Angelo asked. "I need some white chalk for this night-time scene."

"I'll get it for you," Logan insisted, getting up to get the tiny box of chalk and handing it over to Angelo. He gently placed it in front of his injured boyfriend, as if Angelo was an emperor. "Here you go."

"Thank you," Angelo smiled, as he took the chalk and used it to create a crescent moon. He thought that his boyfriend would be just fine. But when the Italian tried to get up and see if there was a sink, Logan checked on the chalk Angelo had been using to draw a night-time picture of a city skyline. He thought that it was pretty good, even though he knew that Angelo wouldn't agree with him. He absentmindedly toyed with the chalk as he did so, rolling it between the palms of his hands.

"Hey," Logan smiled. He placed a hand on Angelo's back and another on his ass. "Do you need anything?"

"No, don't think so," Angelo replied, as he went back to his seat. Students started to giggle, and both were confused. "What's going on?"

"I have no idea," Logan admitted. "I think something got stuck to you. Hold still." Logan got up and inspected Angelo's back, only to find what everyone was giggling about. He'd left a pale white handprint on the back of Angelo's black hoodie. Angelo was going to kill him, so he tried to wipe them off Angelo's back. But he was never able to get close enough. So long as nobody told Angelo that he had a handprint on his ass, he would be fine.

"Logan, for the love of God, tell me that you didn't leave a white handprint on my ass when you hugged me," Angelo groaned.

"Um . . . yeah," Logan admitted. Angelo started taking his hoodie off and wrapped the sleeves around his waist. He got up and left. "Where are you going?"

"To the toilets."

"But why?"

"I have a white handprint on my ass. I wanna get rid of it." He limped out of the room on crutches, red-faced.

"You are surprisingly handsy, Logan," Melissa teased. "I didn't know you had the confidence to do something like that to Angelo."

"Shut up. I have to find out a way to apologize to him."

"Good luck, doodlebug. You'll need it," Louise chimed.

"Don't remind me. Please don't." Logan felt sick with shame. Angelo was going to hate him for this, and Angelo was not supposed to be dealing with this when he already had a broken leg. Quietly terrified, he went to see if Angelo was OK when he came back. He still wasn't wearing the hoodie. "Angelo! I'm so sorry and it will never happen again and-"

"Logan, are you OK?" Angelo asked. "I'm fine. It was just chalk. Calm down." But Logan was still pretty scared. He just knew that Angelo would be mad and break up with his right then and there. He just knew it.

"But I was so worried!" Logan blurted out.

"Enough, Logan, I'm fine," Angelo chided. Logan fell silent, insanely relieved. Angelo, however, already had a good idea of how revenge would work. He'd just have to wait a little while.

* * *

That day, Angelo had to leave early for a follow-up appointment at the town's only GP, lunchtime to be precise. Logan was walking him over to his parents' rental car (they needed one that was disabled-friendly for the next few weeks now that Angelo had a broken leg). "How convenient for you that you get to ditch double English because of one broken leg," Logan teased. He was slowly forging ahead of Angelo, though he didn't realize it. That was the injured teenager's time to strike. He got the paper and 'fell', forcing Logan to try and catch him and hold him up. One of Angelo's hands was on Logan's back, sticking the piece of paper securely onto him. "Angelo, are you OK?" Logan asked, overwhelmed by the sudden added weight.

"I'm so sorry, Logan! I'm still getting used to these crutches and tripped over thin air!" Angelo babbled, hoping he looked convincing. He did.

"Don't worry about it," Logan soothed, helping Angelo over to a nearby lamppost to lean on while he retrieved the discarded crutches. "Here you go."

"Thank you, Logan. I don't know what I'd do without you," Angelo smiled, as Logan continued to walk him to the car. The prodigy's mother greeted them enthusiastically.

"Angelo, _mio caro_ (1)!" his mother gushed. "Logan, thank you for being so nice to my little boy."

" _Mamma_ (2), enough!" Angelo whined, embarrassed. His mother paid him no mind as she helped him into the car.

"Goodbye, Mrs Riva!" Logan called, before going back to school. Not seeing the note her son left on his boyfriend's back, Roselle smiled and buckled Angelo's seatbelt for him. The last time she had done that for him was when he was four.

"That boyfriend of yours is so nice," she commented. "He's a keeper, you know that?" Angelo blushed a dark shade of red.

" _Mamma!_ "

"Oh, shush, Angelo, I know you have it bad. You wouldn't let someone you didn't love leave hickeys on your neck," his mother casually replied. Angelo covered his neck up in vain, blushing even more (as if that was even possible).

"How did you know?" Angelo asked.

"Your father and I saw it yesterday," Angelo's mother replied. "Your dad's been celebrating all day."

"It was that obvious?"

"Yes. Now get your crutches ready for when you get out, we're almost there."

* * *

At school, Logan had no idea why so many people were giggling. What had happened while he was gone? Did he have something on his face? What was it? "Hey, leprechaun," Jay greeted, and the rest of the Red Bandanas laughed. Logan was angry and confused. Why did he call him leprechaun? Only Angelo called him that. He shook it off and went to the canteen, where he sat with Melissa and Louise. The moment they saw him, both laughed uncontrollably.

"That's it, what the fuck is going on?" Logan asked. Melissa got up and took the note off Logan's back, handing it to him. The edges had been decorated in four-leaf clovers (which Logan thought was even more insulting) and read as follows:

_Dear Logan Dobson, you little leprechaun,_

_If you're reading this, then yes, this is payback for leaving a white chalk handprint on my ass. If the person reading this is not Logan, then hand this over to Logan immediately. This is not for you to read._

_P.S. Logan, you are still the most gorgeous leprechaun I've ever known. Please don't be mad. I love you._

Melissa and Louise laughed while Logan turned beet red. "That was well played! Tell Angelo that I thought that was awesome!" Melissa laughed.

"That dick!" Logan snapped. "Oh, he's going to regret this."

"And what are you thinking of doing?" Melissa asked. Logan grinned, his head already full of ideas.

"Oh, he's going to hate it," Logan replied, grinning. "Trust me."

"And until then, what will you do?" Louise asked.

"Deal with people calling me a leprechaun for the rest of the day, I guess," Logan sighed. And the girls went right back to laughing at him. The redhead clenched his fist. He loved that boy, but he'd have to make sure that teasing like this never happened again.

* * *

Angelo was at home alone when Logan came, eating popcorn while watching _The Godfather_ on the TV. Right in the middle of it, there was a knock on the door. "I'm coming! Just wait there!" he called, as he got his crutches and limped over to the door. He saw Logan and tried to act relatively innocent and not mention the note. "Hey, sweetie!"

"Angelo, let me in, please," Logan instructed. Angelo gulped. Logan had to have found the note. Scared, he let Logan in, who closed the door behind him and dragged Angelo to the sofa. The next thing they knew, Angelo was lying on his back on the sofa and Logan was on top of him.

"Logan, what are you doing?" Angelo asked.

"Why did you stick a note to my back?" Logan asked. Angelo's blood ran cold. He chuckled nervously.

"It was payback for the handprint during art class."

"That was an accident!" Logan wasn't mad any more, but did enjoy making Angelo squirm. "And what you did was deliberate and planned. Good thing I know how to deal with you." Logan's hands travelled under his shirt and found his ribs, kneading his sides like dough, which just made Angelo burst out laughing.

"Logan!" he squeaked, before collapsing into fits of laughter. "Logan, no! You're mean!"

"Angelo, are you the only person in the house?" Logan asked. Angelo nodded. "Good." Logan pinned Angelo down and started squeezing and pinching his tummy and sides, while his neck got all the ticklish kisses it could take. Angelo screamed and babbled hysterically, and Logan knew he'd have to shut him up soon. The neighbours would hear.

"LOHOHOHOHOHOGAHAHAHAHAHAHAN, NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!" Angelo begged. "I'M SORRY!"

"I've heard enough out of you," Logan snickered, as he got up, found a roll of duct tape and scissors, and duct-taped his mouth shut and his hands above his head. "That's better," he smiled, once Angelo couldn't talk.

"MMMMMMMMMMPH! NNNNNNNNN! MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!" Angelo faintly whimpered, as the devious redhead gave his neck nothing but ticklish kisses, while his hands were squeezing his torso. The bound boy wanted to scream so badly, but he couldn't. All he could do was whimper and plead through the tape.

"You are such a cutie," Logan sighed. "Shame you had to mess with me. So, Angelo, are you ever going to do that again? Ever?" To influence the inventor's answer in the right direction, he stuck a finger deep into his navel. Angelo bucked and frantically shook his head, tears of mirth in his eyes. _Such a little cutie,_ Logan thought. "Smart boy." He gently removed the duct tape and let Angelo breathe. He was pretty sure that he wouldn't do anything like this again.

"How are you hot and mean?" Angelo panted. Logan snickered.

"Angelo, keep quiet or I'll assume you want more," Logan told him. Angelo quietly nodded, only letting out a slight squeak as Logan's hands brushed against his side searching for the remote. Before he knew it, he had relaxed into the sofa while Logan pinned him down for nothing but snuggles, his hands wandering.

* * *

Over at the affluent gated community where all the rich people lived (some would even go as far as to call it a villa) wealthy folk watched through their net curtains and tutted as paparazzi shouted questions at the Norwood-Sykes family home. One such family, the Adlers, made sure to keep their children, Reuben and Joanne, inside. "Who would have thought it?" Dr Adler sighed. "Maxwell used to be such a nice young boy. He never showed any warning signs." Reuben secretly disagreed. The money had gone to Maxwell's head a long time ago, at the tender age of nine. And like a fool, he had agreed with him and his snobby rhetoric, thinking that it would make them gods amongst men. Instead, it had made him get closer and closer to a piece of scum, and he regretted everything. He just hoped that his peers were willing to forgive and forget.

"He bragged about all the money his father had a lot," Reuben supplied, trying to say something about the Maxwell he had come to know. His father gasped with shock.

"I don't know why I allowed you to have so many playdates with that boy. In hindsight, he was a ticking time bomb just waiting to go off," Dr Adler gossiped. Reuben rolled his eyes and went to look for the chocolate. It would help calm his nerves. But then he looked down at his corpulent body and thought about it. He didn't usually think about food choices, but he did now. How would this help? He put the chocolate down and went to his room to play Halo. He was about to fire up the video game when there was a knock at the door. He went to answer it. It was someone from the paparazzi.

"Hello, son, would you happen to know Maxwell Norwood-Sykes?" a man asked.

"Yes, I go to his school," Reuben replied.

"Could you tell us about him? What he was like, if you personally think he is guilty?" he pressed. Reuben was lost for words. He wasn't sure whether to defend Maxwell's character and tell this little guy with a big camera that Maxwell was a nice person or distance himself from the monster his old friend had become. But then he had a flashback about Maxwell from before he got arrested, and that changed everything for him.

_Flashback: three years ago_

_Maxwell and Reuben were playing at the local playground on the swings when the Red Bandanas came along. They weren't as big and scary as they are now and were really just rowdy troublemakers, but they still terrified Reuben. Maxwell, on the other hand, wasn't scared of people that his father called 'undisciplined, unintelligent thugs' and told them so when they asked to use the swings._

_"Hey, Maxwell, you done with the swings?" Marcus asked._

_"I'll get off them when I'm ready," Maxwell huffed._

_"You've been on there for ages!" Tyrell pointed out._

_"And you've been brainless idiots for ages," Maxwell told them. The Red Bandanas glared at him, while Reuben looked on, horrified. But as he thought about it, he realized Maxwell was right. He could say whatever he wanted to them because they were the rich ones and rich people were always so cool and smart and ended up in charge! It all made sense!_

_"Maxwell, don't bother with this," Reuben warned, trying to match his friend's amount of snobbery. "They obviously won't understand."_

_"You say one more word to us," Jay told them, doing his best to sound as threatening as he could while still being the smallest, "we'll beat you up."_

_"Look, you brainless idiots, I don't care what you do to me. At the end of the day, we're rich and you're not, and rich people get everything," Maxwell told them. Reuben sniggered cruelly in agreement. The livid Red Bandanas looked to each other, then to the nerds who had slighted them, and grabbed them. They wriggled free and ran as fast as they could. Unfortunately, because they were so unfit, that wasn't very fast._

_"They're gaining on us!" Reuben yelled._

_"We'll have to split up to cover more ground!" Maxwell yelled. Reuben didn't know yet, but he was going to be ditched, and in a most cruel manner. Maxwell went left, while Reuben went right. Both had exits for them to use, but Maxwell had picked the larger exit, while Reuben's exit was far too small for him to get through. But it didn't stop him from trying, and it ended badly. Very badly. Reuben crawled through the seemingly miraculous exit, expecting to find a route to his house, but he got stuck halfway there. His rear end was on full display to the Red Bandanas._

_"Hey, look at this! Fat piggy got stuck in the wall!" he heard someone yell, and raucous laughter erupted. Then there was a nerve-racking pause, as they discussed what to do with someone who had first insulted them and was now in such a vulnerable position. He felt his trousers being pulled down to his ankles and hard, stinging smacks rained down on his rear end. All the twelve-year-old Reuben could do, while his friend was undoubtedly running home to safety, was cry. And cry. And cry._

_End flashback_

"Maxwell was and still is a piece of shit, and he's no friend of mine," Reuben told the reporter, before shutting the door in his face.

"Reuben, who was it?" Dr Adler asked.

"Just some reporter guy. He's gone now, so it's fine," Reuben replied. He got no response and figured his father had gone back to work. He went back to his pile of video games.

 _Maybe if I'm nicer to people, Angelo and the other kids will like me,_ Reuben thought. _I'll think about it tomorrow._ And then he dived into a gaming marathon that would last the rest of the day and long into the night.

* * *

Translations

1: My dear. Italian.

2: Mom/Mum. Italian.


	27. Life will never be the same

_Friday, June 6th_

* * *

Friday started off the same way as Thursday. The streets were crawling with people from various media outlets and the couple had to navigate between one mob and another to get from point A to point B. And Maxwell saw all of it on the communal television in the breakroom. He smirked for a second when he saw the footage of Angelo being pulled to the floor, but then he remembered his own situation and huffed. It was hard to feel smug when you no longer had your freedom or privacy. He didn't even get a cell to himself; he had to share it with some guy he hadn't even met. This was horrible, and basically the only reason why he regretted his actions. Not because of anything to do with morals, but because he had to share a room with someone. Being an only child, he'd never shared a room before, and being a rich only child, he'd never shared anything before. It felt dirty and disgusting to use anything used by someone else before you, in his opinion. And of course, Maxwell couldn't resist complaining about all of it. The food, the noise, the sleeping arrangements, the jumpsuits everyone wore, everything.

"Where's the good food?" Maxwell snapped, after he took a spoonful of cardboard-tasting cereal and felt sick. "This stuff is disgusting slop!" He stuck a spoon into the off-brand cereal he'd been served and stirred it with a look of disgust on his face. The canteen worker rolled her eyes.

"If you don't like prison food, don't get locked up," she told him. He heard a guy behind him snicker. Maxwell decided to keep his mouth shut about the food, considering he didn't exactly look like he'd been missing meals. He walked over to an empty table, and sat down. Two other boys sat down next to him, both of them being bigger and stronger than he was. Maxwell was terrified of them both.

"New kid, what you here for?" the first and smaller boy asked. He was a dark-skinned black boy, with short curly hair that grew upwards and outwards. Maxwell told the truth immediately. These boys looked like trouble. He figured if he didn't tell them, it would be beaten out of him later.

"Solicitation of kidnapping and grievous bodily harm," he squeaked. "I'm waiting to go to trial and the police said it was too risky for me to stay home."

"No shit! How'd you get someone kidnapped, fat boy?" the second, bigger boy asked. He was biracial, with curly hair that descended downwards like floppy broken springs.

"I gave some guys some information about this kid so they'd get rid of him," Maxwell admitted. The boy thought that maybe admitting what he had done would make his prison experience better. Turns out it did not. They both looked at him and their jaws dropped. The duo stared at him with disgust.

"You are one messed-up piece of shit, you know that?" the first boy told him, as he got up. His friend left with him, and Maxwell was left alone again. He sighed as he tried to choke down the food he'd been given. He couldn't risk wasting away, after all.

"Breakfast time is over," a correctional officer yelled, only thirty minutes later. Maxwell had only just finished eating the cardboard-like cereal. "Everyone with the same pattern jumpsuit, line up!" Jumpsuits had a variety of different patterns used to identify how dangerous the person wearing it was. Grey was low risk, orange was moderate risk, grey and blue stripes were high risk and a plain dark red jumpsuit meant the wearer was extremely high risk. Maxwell was wearing a grey and blue striped jumpsuit, which he thought was really making a mountain out of a molehill. How did he ever qualify as being high risk? He was just talking to them and they groomed him. (Well, that was the story his defence lawyer told him to stick with, anyway.)

"I just want to go home," Maxwell sighed. This was hell on earth, and what made it worse was that Maxwell knew that Angelo was going to have an amazing day. Not that Angelo deserved to have an amazing day. He made all of his classmates think that he was a snob, a bully and a moron. In reality, it was all just a joke and he should lighten up. (Technically, it was true, Maxwell just refused to see himself in a negative light.) He had that in his mind while he was escorted back to his cell, and was placed face-to-face with his cell mate for the first time. This guy was easily twice his size, looming over the barely five-foot-tall nerd and shooting him the stink eye just for being there.

"Who are you?" Maxwell's cellmate grunted.

"I-I'm Maxwell. Maxwell Norwood-Sykes," Maxwell introduced. His cellmate didn't like the sound of him immediately. He knew a posh-sounding name when he heard it, and that was as posh as they come.

"Rich boy, huh? Well, Maxie, everything in this cell is mine, and you're in my cell. Guess you're mine now," the teenager told him, grinning sadistically. Maxwell gulped. He had another reason not to like it here.

* * *

At school, Angelo was being tormented by the Red Bandanas. Jay, ever the curious one of the four, had been counting the number of signatures on Angelo's cast and, inevitably, found Santo's written permission on his cast. It allowed them to tickle his 'geeky younger brother' senseless and they refused to cease. "You have a very helpful big brother, Angelo," Marcus grinned, as Angelo screamed with laughter. It hadn't been long, but tears of mirth were leaking out of his eyes.

"GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO, PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE!" Angelo screamed. Logan was standing by, and Angelo looked to him for help. "LOGAN, MAKE THEM STOP!"

"Not until you're all tuckered out," Logan replied. "And that takes some time."

"What the hell is going on here? Boys, let Angelo breathe!" Coach Hurley ordered, going inside to investigate the noise complaints he'd received concerning the empty classroom. "Boys, enough!" Angelo finally got time to breathe, and he gratefully took in big gulps of air he'd been denied just seconds earlier, still giggling as he breathed out all the hysterical laughter. "How are you, Angelo?" His voice was much more kindly.

"They were ruthless," Angelo sighed. Now that Coach Hurley knew that Angelo wasn't in harm's way, he was relieved. However, these particular circumstances were adorable. It didn't stop him from telling Angelo about something he would find to be rather . . . disconcerting.

"Oh, you think this is bad? I knew a kid that broke his leg back when I was in high school and the cast was cut off him after about two months. According to his big brother who went with him, he laughed through the whole thing and eventually collapsed while they cut the cast off," the PE teacher reminisced. Angelo was confused.

"And why are you telling me?" he asked.

"Judging by your reaction to what they did to you, you'll probably turn out the same way," Coach Hurley replied. Angelo turned a very dark shade of red just after the coach turned his back on him. "And all of you need to leave immediately!" They obliged, but all of them poked Angelo in the ribs on the way out. The poor inventor squeaked and flinched at every last little jab, which Logan loved teasing him about.

"I'd just love to see that again," Logan taunted, before being more gentle with the tired boy. "Hey, I'll walk you to history class."

"Thank you," Angelo smiled, as they walked together. Angelo sat next to Logan, as usual, and they were approached by Courtney, of all people. He had a nervous smile on his face and kept adjusting his glasses, which continued to slip down his face.

"Hello, Angelo. Could you send Logan away so you and I can talk?" Courtney asked.

"Who are you?" Angelo asked. Courtney's jaw dropped.

"I'm Courtney Price," Courtney introduced, secretly enraged that Angelo didn't know him. "We have classes together. Don't you remember me?" Angelo took the time to study the boy's face. An uncomfortable few minutes passed before a look of recognition washed over Angelo's features.

"Now you mention that we have classes together, I think I remember you," Angelo recalled.

"You do?" Courtney asked. He had a big smile on his face and no idea what Angelo would say next.

"Yeah. Weren't you that guy that tried to help Maxwell get me into trouble in my first history lesson with Miss Hollins?" the injured teen asked. Logan glared at him. Courtney nervously started laughing. This was going to be awkward, and it was still all Maxwell's fault. How was Maxwell still making it harder for him to talk to people?

"You see, Angelo, I only did that because Maxwell said I had to, not because I hated you or anything," Courtney explained, smiling nervously.

"Why are you taking orders from a knockoff Muggle version of Draco Malfoy?" Angelo asked. Logan fought back a smile. He'd heard this before.

"Angelo, don't you think it's unfair to talk about someone like that when they have no way of defending themselves?" Courtney asked. The moment he said it, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. He hadn't meant to defend Maxwell. He was trying to distance himself from the now disgraced nerd. How had this defence just come out of his mouth? Angelo was enraged.

"Courtney, don't you think it's unfair to give information about someone to creeps on the internet when they have no way of defending themselves?" Angelo asked.

"I-I meant . . . I was just trying to-" Courtney tried to explain.

"Courtney, why don't you leave my boyfriend alone?" Logan asked. Courtney left, angry at himself for being so blind. He'd trusted Maxwell because he constantly talked about how they would inherit everything because they were the smartest around. The geeks shall inherit the earth, according to Alexandra Robbins. Then he went around to the few other rich kids and told them that they would rule the world because money equalled power, and it could certainly talk. Maxwell played them all like a violin. And just when Courtney wanted to forget it all and tried to be friends with someone cool like Angelo, he would be dismissed because of what Maxwell had told him to do. At that point, nobody had considered Angelo to be cool. He was fair game . . . at the time. Now he was untouchable. "Are you OK?" Logan asked.

"I've been worse," Angelo admitted.

"Class, I have a quiz for you to do," Miss Hollins smiled. "I'll hand them out, and the highest three scorers get sweets that I bought." Three boxes of chocolates were brought out, and Courtney tried to make light of the situation. Emphasis on tried.

"Hey, with that logic, why don't you just give it all to Angelo?" Courtney asked, laughing at his own joke.

"Leave me alone, please, Courtney," Angelo told him. Courtney just didn't take the hint.

"I'm just saying that maybe it's unfair to have him involved, considering he's . . . you know." Courtney's voice trailed off as people glared at him.

"No, Courtney, I don't know. Please tell me," Angelo replied. Courtney turned pale and tried in vain to stammer out an excuse.

"Well, Angelo, you are a genius," Courtney told Angelo frankly. Angelo refused to turn round, burying himself in a daydream about flying cars and domestic robots. "Angelo? Angelo, why aren't you listening? Angelo?"

"Angelo, he's talking to you," Logan whispered. Angelo sat up and took notice now.

"Maxwell?" Angelo blurted out, confused.

"I'm not Maxwell, you - you over-intelligent freak of nature!" Courtney screamed.

"Courtney, leave my classroom immediately!" Miss Hollins ordered. Courtney stormed off to the headmistress' office, grumbling. Logan was worried about Angelo.

"Angelo, what happened? Are you OK?" Logan asked. Angelo just sighed. "You do know that Maxwell's been arrested, right? He's not here."

"I know that Maxwell's gone, I was even sitting next to him when it happened. I'll tell Courtney I'm sorry the next time I see him. I only called him Maxwell was because . . . he reminded me of him so much," Angelo admitted. "The last time someone talked to me like that, it was Maxwell." That made sense, and Angelo seemed like he was telling the truth. There was no nervousness in his demeanour that there would have been if he was lying. Angelo was always nervous when he lied. Logan found it adorable.

"OK. Let's go see Courtney to apologize at lunch," Logan decided, as quizzes were handed out. "Until then, don't worry about it. And what's the answer to question five?"

"Logan, if Angelo tells you the answers, then you both get detention," Miss Hollins told them. From that moment on, silence reigned supreme.

* * *

At lunch, Courtney sat alone, eating sandwiches. This was how he usually sat, and it made him a target to bullies. But not this lunchtime. Angelo approached him with his own lunch, intending to apologize. He came alone. Logan was with Melissa and Louise in the meantime. "Courtney, do you mind if I sit down next to you?" Angelo asked. Courtney was stunned. Angelo stood there, waiting for an answer.

"No, sit down," he choked out. Angelo sat, but with difficulty. "Why are you here with me?"

"I want to apologize to you," Angelo told him. Courtney's jaw dropped. "For calling you by Maxwell's name in class earlier. It was wrong and I can see why you were offended. And I'm sorry for that. I hope we can move past this and - possibly - be friends. Let bygones be bygones." The nerd was stunned. Nobody ever apologized to him, and Angelo seemed sincere, too.

"I - I forgive you, Angelo," Courtney admitted, sticking out his hand. Angelo extended his own, and they shook hands, all arguments forgotten. He had respect for someone who was willing to apologize to him. Maybe he wasn't the 'insubordinate, cocky asshole' Maxwell said he was. "Why did you call me Maxwell, by the way?"

"For a moment there, you reminded me of him," Angelo admitted. "Your manner was just like his."

"It was?" Courtney asked. "I reminded you of that lowlife?"

"Lowlife?" Angelo repeated, shocked. "I thought he was your friend. I've seen you hang out with him before. I assumed you were friends."

"He is no friend of mine. Not since the Invention Convention," Courtney divulged. "You see, my friends and I pride ourselves on being the model students other kids should look up to, the good example. Maxwell didn't fit that image. You saw him yourself! He had detentions nearly all of the time, got sent out of classrooms, and was even suspended for that horrible business involving that picture of you and Logan."

"When you think about it, I did get outed by that guy in two different ways," Angelo told him. "I was outed as a genius, and outed as a bisexual guy in a relationship with a guy."

"I am so sorry," Courtney sighed, and the two continued eating their respective lunches. Then Angelo bid goodbye to Courtney and went to see Logan, who was worried about him.

"Did everything go OK with Courtney?" the redhead asked.

"Yeah, Courtney really isn't that bad once you properly sit down and talk to him," Angelo replied. "This surprised me. A lot of the other nerds I found at this school and Golden River Academy were intellectual snobs."

"A lot of people would agree with you here," Logan admitted. "So, you two are cool?"

"Yes." Angelo let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "We're good."

* * *

Meanwhile, back at the Norwood-Sykes mansion, Jeremiah had some bad news for them. "Unfortunately, there is no legal loophole that can be used to talk the sentence down due to Maxwell's age, and the evidence is mounting against him. This is going to be hard to disprove. The one good thing is that there's no official confession for the prosecution to use."

"I guess there's something to look forward to," Sean said, feeling sick. "I just feel like this shouldn't be happening. My son should not be mixing with criminals because of a miscarriage of justice." Candi was still crying about the loss of her only son. Her precious Maxwell was gone, locked away in a big, scary prison. He was supposed to be with her. He was her baby, and in her mind, he would always be her baby.

"That is perfectly understandable, Sean, and it's always a pleasure to deal with you," Jeremiah smiled, thinking of the check he would receive, regardless of how well he performed.

"You're welcome, and I'll mail you your cheque in three working days," Sean promised. When the lawyer left, Sean secretly worried about how this would affect his business. His old friend demanded an awful lot of money for his legal services, and he wasn't sure how much he'd have left when it was all over or if it would even be worth it. "If Maxwell's case is approved and he's tried as an adult, then we're all screwed." Candi cried up in the spare guest room, refusing to let her husband touch her. The blonde was utterly inconsolable, and nobody knew if it would get better or worse with time.

They could only hope.

* * *

At the end of the day, Angelo went home on foot. Today, he had promised his sister and his parents that he would pick her up from school and take her home. Logan still insisted on walking with him. He wanted to properly meet Angelo's little sister, and he wasn't letting Angelo go alone, anyway. What sort of boyfriend would he be if he did that?

"We're almost there," Angelo panted, a little tired. "I promised Mirella that I would get her today. I can't break my word to her. I just can't."

"You're a decent guy," Logan smiled. "Which class is Mirella's, anyway?"

"Over there," Angelo replied. "I'll get her." He hobbled over on his crutches, waiting for the stream of children to come pouring out. A short lady with black hair and pigtails (Angelo mistook her for an older child at first) led Mirella's class outside. The gaggle of five year old kids huddled around her and had to point out whoever was taking them home before they could leave. Angelo hobbled over and attempted to get Mirella's attention, but she noticed him and rushed over, squealing and giggling. She hugged him as hard as she could, giggling and smiling up at him.

"You came!" Mirella squealed. "You came like you said you would!"

"Of course I did," Angelo smiled. "I promised you that I would come and take you to get ice cream because it's Friday!" Logan, hearing this, sighed. Angelo wouldn't be seeing him today. But he could live with that. It was for family, after all. Mirella and Angelo smiled as they approached Logan. Mirella was still a little confused about why he was here.

"Hello," Mirella whispered. She was still a little scared of him.

"Hello, Mirella," Logan smiled. He really hoped he didn't seem creepy to her. Mirella smiled up at him.

"Logan, you like Angelo, right?" Mirella asked.

"Yes," Logan replied.

"You hang around him a lot," Mirella replied. She didn't miss much.

"Well, I'm going to need some help with doing things now I have a broken leg," Angelo explained. "I'm just glad that Logan is a nice boyfriend to me." Now they'd done it. Mirella knew that they were a couple now. But she didn't seem phased by it.

"You're really nice to my big brother, Logan," Mirella smiled. "Thank you for helping him so much."

"You're welcome," Logan replied, still shaken.

"Logan, I'm going to be taking Mirella to that café because it's Friday and I promised," Angelo told him. "My parents will pick me up." Logan nodded.

"OK," Logan replied. "Have fun, you two. Bye!"

"Bye!" Angelo called, as he and Mirella went to the little café that they had grown to love. They went to look at the menu board, filled with smoothies, milkshakes and various desserts. It was a homely place, and the manager knew him as the boy with the overly playful dog. Now she knew him as the injured hero. But she tried to keep things cool.

"Hello there," she smiled. "What would you like?"

"What do you want, Mirella?" Angelo asked.

"Something to drink," Mirella told him. "What sort of smoothies do you have?"

"There's strawberry, raspberry and blackberry, mango and pineapple, apple, kiwi and spinach-"

"Spinach?! Not spinach! I can't have spinach because it's gross!" Mirella objected.

"Mirella, you do not talk to people that way," Angelo told her. "She's just giving you the list of options. Now, what do you say?"

"You're right. I'm sorry," Mirella replied.

"That's my good girl," Angelo smiled. "I'll have a chocolate milkshake. What about you, Mirella?"

"Mango and pineapple smoothie, please," Mirella replied. The manager smiled and set about making the drinks. Until then Angelo and Mirella passed the time by talking and laughing about the good old days. Then the conversation took a more serious turn, thanks to Mirella's curious mind. "Why were there cameras in front of the house, Angelo?" the innocent minded little girl asked.

"Because something happened to me that made people from the news come over to take photos and ask me questions," Angelo replied. "Just ignore them, OK? And don't talk to them."

"OK," Mirella promised.

"Your drinks are ready," the manager called, placing the milkshake and the smoothie on the table for them. She knew Angelo couldn't get the drink himself and Mirella wasn't tall enough to reach the counter, so she delivered it to them. They were shocked and immensely grateful.

"Thank you, madam," Angelo smiled, before taking a long sip of his chocolate milkshake.

"Thank you, madam," Mirella echoed, before sipping on a smoothie. She took bigger and bigger gulps, letting the taste wash over her tongue. It tasted good . . . really good. Nothing had the right to taste this heavenly. She drained the cup in seconds, while Angelo sipped at his drink little by little. He wanted to savour the taste of the creamy, chocolatey milkshake as much as he could.

"Hey, sweetie, you want to go home now?" Angelo suggested. "Mamma and Papa will be worried about us."

"OK," Mirella agreed, and the two waited for their parents to come and pick them up. Until then, Angelo let his little sister play on his phone, but not before he sent a text to his mother.

_At the café down the road. Need to go home._

Their mother came, driving over to the café to pick up her children. "Angelo, Mirella, get in the car," she instructed.

"I need to pay first," Angelo replied, digging through his pockets to hand over a few crumpled bank notes. But she refused. "But miss, I have to pay you."

"No, no, you don't need to tip me," she smiled. "Everything's been completed. It's fine." Dazed, Angelo left with his money, and didn't say a word afterwards.

"The lady at the café wouldn't let me give her the money. It's insane!" Angelo babbled. His mother was touched and surprised.

"Such a sweet lady," his mother mused, as she drove them home. In the car, Angelo had pulled up Logan's phone number and was staring at the flurry of old texts he'd received from the sweet, adorable redhead. He was bored on the car ride home and wanted someone to talk to. Logan was his best shot. Also, he felt that he seemed pushed away because Angelo chose to spend time with his sister over him. The conversation started the moment he got into his room and locked the door.

Angelo: _Hey, Logan!_

Logan: _Hello, Angelo. So I guess you got back from taking your sister out?_

A: _Yeah, I always take Mirella out on a Friday. It's a tradition we have. I want to make some good memories with her before I move out._

L: _So now I know that you're not free on Fridays, so we'll have to meet up on another day instead._

A: _What do you mean?_

L: _I'll pick you up tomorrow. Don't worry about anything._

A: _OK._

Angelo put the phone down and his heart raced. He freaked out, but in a truly euphoric way. Was Logan talking about a date? This sounded awesome! He changed into some green pyjamas as best he could, lay down on the sofa and fell asleep, extraordinarily early in the day. It wasn't even 5:00 PM yet, but the genius didn't care. He was wondering what Logan had planned.


	28. First date

_Saturday, June 7th_

* * *

Angelo woke up at the leisurely time of 9 AM, yawning as he rolled around in bed. Or tried to. The leg was holding him down in bed, like an anchor. He hated it. Bored, he sat up and scrolled through his phone, finding a text message sent by Logan at . . . 6 in the morning?

L: _Hey babe. How about our first proper date? Text me once you wake up._

Angelo grabbed his phone and texted back urgently, grinning.

A: _I'm up. What do you have in mind?_

L: _How about we go on a walk? I'd like to get to know you better. You can bring Pepsi with you, if you want._

A: _OK._

L: _I'll pick you up at your house at 10:30. Will that be enough time for you to get dressed and meet me at the door?_

A: _Yes._

Urgently, Angelo hobbled out of bed and got changed. It was going to be his first date ever, he had to look good. Angelo settled on a green shirt, black jacket and grey jeans and went to get breakfast. As an afterthought, he sprayed some of his father's aftershave onto his neck. Pepsi got up and tried to lick his best friend, and Angelo smiled. "Go get your leash, boy. Go on." Pepsi barked and rushed to get it for him. He was just so happy to go for a walk. Mirella was watching cartoons on their father's phone, and his parents were watching TV.

"Hello, sweetie," Roselle smiled. "You're up early."

"Early for a Saturday," his father scoffed. "He could stay asleep until 2:00 PM if he wanted."

"I'm going for a walk," Angelo lied. "I'll take Pepsi with me. It'll be good for us both."

Roselle had to say something. "You have to take it easy, and I don't like you going out alone, in case . . . " She trailed off, everyone knowing what she meant.

"I won't be alone. Logan will be with me the whole time." That reassured the Riva parents.

"Good. Now, stay with him all the time, and he'll keep you safe, OK?" Angelo nodded, rolling his eyes at his parents. He was a whole foot taller than Logan, and much stronger. If it wasn't for the broken leg, he would be the strong protector of the two. But the leg was still broken, and that meant Logan would be watching over him until further notice.

"OK," Angelo sighed. "I'll wait for Logan." Angelo sat down and waited. Bonaventura and Roselle waited for Logan to show up. In that time, Angelo fixed a lead to Pepsi's collar, got a ball for Pepsi to chase and waited for his boyfriend to arrive.

"Angelo? Angelo?" Logan asked. Angelo perked up and Pepsi jumped up at the door. Logan was nice. He gave him belly rubs sometimes.

"Logan!" Angelo greeted, opening the door for his boyfriend. " _Dai, Pepsi. Ciao, mamma e papà. Ti amo._ (1)"

" _Ti amo anch'io, Angelo,_ (2)" Bonaventura replied. Grinning, Angelo, Logan and Pepsi left the house.

"I'm sorry it's not a normal date," Angelo muttered, once they were both far away from the house. "You don't normally have to compete for attention with a dog."

"I don't mind, considering both the dog and the boy are really cute," Logan replied. "Getting to snuggle them both sounds great."

"I-it does?" Angelo looked away. Logan smiled.

"This is the best thing about you," Logan grinned. "It's so easy to make you blush. You little cutie."

"I'll have you know that I am not little," Angelo huffed. "I am actually bigger than you are."

"Hard to tell when you're the one on the bottom," Logan taunted. "Good thing you're supposed to be resting, so I can place you on the sofa and we can . . . play." Angelo tried to get him to quiet down, embarrassed.

"Logan!" Angelo looked around, embarrassed. "Stop! Not here!"

"Shhh. If someone hears you being embarrassed, then they might hear what I'm saying to you," Logan teased. "You want that?" Angelo hurriedly shook his head. "Good. Now shut up while we go to the park, OK?" Angelo nodded, and they walked to the park. He thought it was adorable how Angelo sighed with relief when they got to the park, empty of people. Angelo sat down on the floor and threw a ball for Pepsi to fetch, Logan sitting next to him.

"That feels rather nice," Angelo muttered, laying down on the grass. "Not walking anymore."

"You've got a point," Logan replied, as Pepsi came bounding over to them with the ball in his mouth. Logan took it and threw it back. "It's pretty relaxing." A small, delicate hand rubbed Angelo's back.

"That feels . . . nice," Angelo muttered. "Could you do that more?"

"Course, babe," Logan replied, letting his hand rub Angelo's back. Angelo started to purr, melting into Logan's touch.

"Yes, that's good," Angelo sighed. "C-could you keep going?" Logan nodded, squeezing Angelo's shoulder blade.

"Angelo, you're pretty tense. Especially here." Logan squeezed Angelo's shoulder and really went to town. His quivering boyfriend relaxed. "Good boy, baby." Logan snuggled closer to the prodigy. Angelo's eyes were about to close, and that was when Logan said those fatal words. "Pepsi, play with Angelo!" Angelo's eyes snapped open and he was about to utter a command to make the dog stop, but he was too late.

"GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Angelo giggled and squirmed as much as he could as Pepsi licked at his tummy. Logan tried to hold him up, but he was too squirmy and too big, so he did the next best thing and propped his boyfriend up against a tree to tease and play with him more. He snuggled closer to his precious, precocious sweetie as he giggled to near-unconsciousness. He let a hand slip under his shirt so he could stick a finger inside of his navel.

"Had enough?" Logan teased. Angelo nodded.

"YEHEHEHEHEHES! STOHOHOHOHOHOP!" Angelo whined. Logan let go.

"Pepsi, off." With those words, Pepsi backed away from his master.

"Thank you, Logan."

"It's OK, cutie," Logan teased. "You wanna stay here a little longer or wanna go for some food? There's a convenience store and a chippy nearby. Wanna go?" Angelo nodded, getting up and going with Logan, Pepsi trotting by his side. They eventually reached a corner shop, Logan tied Pepsi to a post, and they just browsed, mainly the snacks section. It wasn't until Angelo got to the newspaper section that he saw the latest headline.

**MORE ARRESTS MADE IN THE NEW WAVE OF INTELLECT SAGA**

"L-Logan?" Angelo asked. "Could you look at this?"

"Sure, what - oh, god," Logan muttered. "Babe, I'm so sorry you had to see that."

"I wish it stopped eventually," Angelo sighed. "Who the hell are they?"

"No idea, but they have to be either rich or crazy," Logan muttered. "Most likely both. Cookie?"

"Nah," Angelo replied. "I'd like to see that newspaper again."

"No, it's stressing you out. We're going now." Logan began to pull Angelo out of the shop. "Come on, boy. Now."

"No."

"Come with me."

"No."

"That's it." Logan grabbed Angelo's butt, grinning as Angelo squirmed. "You like my hands on your butt, huh? Come on, baby boy, tell me. Talk to me."

"Logan, please! Not here! We'll be seen!" Angelo turned redder and redder. "You can't!"

"Oh, really? I can't?" Logan gripped his boyfriend's rear tighter, eliciting a squeal. "Oh, honey, I'm your boyfriend. Of course I can, especially when you look so cute. Come on, cute little baby boy, squeal for me."

"Babe, please!" the Italian whimpered, as he felt a hand toy with his belt, threatening to rip it off him. "OK, I'll go! And I won't look at the newspapers anymore!"

"Good boy," Logan cooed. "Come on, doll." Angelo sighed, blushing madly as he was led out.

"Wait, why did you call me doll?" Angelo asked.

"Because you're cute and it's easy for me to make you do whatever I want." Logan grinned as he tied Pepsi's leash. "Cute and precious and perfect for me to play with. Just like a little doll." Angelo looked away, nervously smiling as he was taken away to the chip shop. "What do you want, babe?"

"Just small chips with ketchup. I'm not that hungry," Angelo replied. He fished around in his pocket for change, but Logan stopped him.

"Oh no, cutie. Let me handle this," Logan insisted, fishing out a dirty note and some coins to pay for their meals. "Two orders, sir. Small chips with ketchup for him and chicken nuggets for me."

"£4.20, lad," the man behind the counter said. Logan paid the money, was handed his change and took Angelo to get a seat. It was a relatively little corner booth, and it was out of sight of the other customers and the man behind the counter. Perfect for Logan to play with Angelo as much as he could get away with.

"I'm only letting you be in control because of the leg, you know," Angelo muttered.

"Oh, you are?" Logan stopped toying with Angelo's belt when he heard that. "But your arms work fine. You could push me off you at any time. Unless . . . " Logan grinned a big, wide, mischievous grin. "You like this too much for me to stop me, don't you, you little tease?" Angelo blushed, snuggling closer and whimpering as he felt hands slip under his shirt and toying with his belt. Logan eventually ended up taking it off him completely, placing it under to the table next to his boyfriend's crutches.

"Logan, what are you doing?"

"You want this, huh? Then you tell me how much you like it when I use you like a toy. Say it," Logan replied, grinning as he stroked Angelo's groin, grinning as he squirmed and looked away. The prodigy bit back a moan as he shifted closer, but then the hand went away. "It's OK. You're not telling the whole world. Just me."

"Logan, this is embarrassing," Angelo blushed. "Why are you playing with me like this?"

"Because you're cute and I love you," Logan replied. "I love you so much, and I just love having a hot boy to tease."

"You have a good point," Angelo replied, pressing his legs together and looking away from Logan.

"Chips with ketchup and small chicken nuggets?" the kitchen worker called.

"I'll get it," Logan replied. Angelo tried to get up, but he felt a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down into his seat. "No, really, honey. Don't get up." Angelo nodded. Logan got up to retrieve the food for him and his boyfriend. But he wasn't done there. He took one of the chips and tried to feed it to Angelo.

"Seriously?" Angelo asked, dodging the forkful of chips aimed at his mouth by his boyfriend. "Stop that, Logan."

"Nuh-uh. I want you to eat, and you wanted the chips. This works out."

"I wanted to feed myself."

"You just need to relax and let me pamper you."

"Great, just great. Now can you let me feed myself now?"

"Fine, you big baby." Logan ate a chicken nugget while allowing Angelo to feed himself. It was going well . . . until he looked at Angelo's food and realized something. Those chips looked tasty, and the ketchup made it look even better. Surely Angelo wouldn't notice if he took just one chip from him. He was too busy putting his belt back on and was too embarrassed to look at him.

Tentatively, Logan inched closer to his boyfriend and the beloved chips, ready to take a few chips from the boy that definitely had far too many. He reached over, took one chip, and ate it. It was still a little hot, but worth it. He got bold and took another and another. The fourth time, his hand was grabbed by Angelo.

"Sneaky little artist, huh?" Angelo taunted. "Care to explain yourself?"

"Fine. You are mine, and what's yours is mine. So I had a few of your chips." Logan looked up at Angelo with those big blue eyes that mesmerized him. "Please don't be mad, babe."

"Oh, babe, I'm not mad at you," Angelo replied. "But I would like some chicken nuggets, though."

"Fine," Logan sighed, letting the Italian eat a handful of chicken nuggets. "Precious boy. You're lucky you're cute . . . and smart . . . and badass."

"And don't you forget it," Angelo retorted, grinning as he squeezed his boyfriend's arm.

"Hmph." Logan looked away, but he didn't remove Angelo's hand. "I'll take you to my place once you're done eating."

"OK," Angelo replied, stealing yet another nugget. "I'm not sure your mother would appreciate a random dog in the house."

"Yeah," Logan agreed. "But not until you've finished. Here, I'll help you." He took a chip and ate it, grinning.

"Prick." From there, it was a food fight, where all they did was steal each other's food while trying to defend their own. People stared, but they didn't care. They were having fun. Over the course of the food fight, Angelo got ketchup on his nose and Logan had a red streak of ketchup on his cheek. The food had been eaten, save for one chicken nugget. Once they left, wiped ketchup off their faces and cleared their table, they took the chicken nugget and fed it to Pepsi. Pepsi swallowed the nugget and barked happily, jumping up on Logan gratefully.

"Yeah, you're welcome," Logan replied. "And I suppose you're going to lick me to say thank you." As if on cue, Pepsi started licking his face. "Hey! Pepsi!"

"That's so cute!" Angelo teased. "Logan, he loves you! Pepsi, come here!" Pepsi bounded over to him and threw himself onto his master, licking and cuddling as much as he could while standing. "Hahahahahahaha! Hey, stop doing that! No!" Pepsi barked happily and continued.

"OK, come on," Logan grunted, taking both Angelo and Pepsi back to the park. He manhandled Angelo over to a tree, letting him sit down. Judging by the lack of noise that could usually be heard, the park was empty. So he got Angelo and Pepsi all to himself. "That's it, baby boy, come to me," Logan muttered, snuggling closer and landing hickey after hickey on Angelo's body. The jacket was ripped off him and tossed aside as one hickey after another ended up on his neck.

"Babe! G-go slower, please!" Angelo pleaded. "Ohhh, that's . . . so good."

"And if you go faster, it feels better," Logan told him, as he nipped at his boyfriend's neck. He went hard and fast with the teenager, who whimpered and let him do as he pleased. "You know what? I think I'll go as fast as I want with you, baby boy." Logan's precious baby cooed and purred, as he felt hands wander up and down his body.

"Logan . . . more," Angelo muttered. "Please." His hands, like Logan's, surveyed the other boy's body with his touch.

"Good boy." Logan checked on Angelo's body for marks, applying more love bites to his neck and straddling his waist. "Do you have any idea what I want to do to you? Your hot body, mine for the taking. You're lucky we're in public, or I'd have taken everything off you and started fucking you right into the ground, you know that?" Angelo looked away, puffing his cheeks out and squirming. Logan decided to soften up, but not losing the mocking tone in his voice. "Aww, I wouldn't do it to you if you didn't want to, babe, don't be scared. Wait . . . do you want to? Right here?" He tugged at Angelo's belt, not strong enough to take it off him entirely, but enough for the more nervous teen to notice.

"Logan, don't do that, please, I don't-" He was cut off by a hand over his mouth.

"Shh, Angelo, I was just teasing you. Let's get back to what you do like." Logan looked down and had a knowing smile on his face. "I know you like it, I can see the effect it has." Angelo pursed his lips and looked at a distant tree, as he felt hickeys land all over his neck and little squeals leave his mouth. He reached for Logan and started scratching his back, blushing madly as Logan snickered. "Knew I made you go wild for me. You can't resist, can you?" His eyes rolled into the back of his head, moaning unashamedly.

"Logan, you're amazing," Angelo murmured, letting out a gasp when he felt Logan squeeze his ass while giving him hickeys. "That - that feels _sooooo_ good. More."

"Needy baby." Logan rolled his eyes and scoffed, but did what Angelo wanted. The whimpering and purrs became more erratic when Logan went for his neck. "You're mine, you know that?"

"Y-yes, I know," Angelo's eyes were glazed over as Logan held him tighter. "I love you, sweetie."

"Wow, I must be really good at giving you hickeys if they made you fall in love with me," Logan grinned, smirking against the Italian's skin. "I think I'd like to hear you moan my name. Come on, sweetie. I'll make sure that you are well taken care of."

"L-Logan, please more. Logan . . . Logan. Logan!" Angelo whimpered.

"May I?" Logan whispered, toying with Angelo's belt again.

"N-not ready for that. Take me home, please," Angelo muttered.

"Of course, babe. But remember, you'll be calling out my name once I'm done with you, somehow," Angelo squirmed and looked away, but Logan held his chin and tilted his head to look at him. "Understand?"

"Mm-hmm," Angelo murmured, as he found himself being kissed witless. His imagination ran wild with filthy fantasies of what Logan would do with and to him.

"Oh, look at your cute little face, all blissed out. I know exactly what I'd do with you," Logan taunted. "You want more once we go back to your place?"

"I might," Angelo admitted, as Pepsi rushed over to them. Even though he hadn't been explicitly told, he just knew it was time for him to go home. "Did - did you really mean that stuff you said?"

"Of course." Logan helped Angelo to his feet, assisted him with putting on his jacket and whistled for Pepsi to come over. "So, will your parents be home?"

"N-not sure," Angelo stammered, while on shaky legs. Logan had really done a number on him. "I'll check." He fished out a key from his pocket and inserted it into the lock. They were greeted by a burst of noise.

"Angelo, you're back!" Mirella squealed. "Can you play with me?"

"Baby girl, I'm still a little tired," Angelo muttered. "I'll need to lie down for about five minutes, okay?"

"Yeah, he's right. I'll take him to his bed so he can rest up," Logan replied. Angelo fought back a squeal of shock . . . and also delight. Logan Dobson was going to be in. His. Room!

"Are you serious?" Angelo whispered.

"Of course," Logan whispered. "Come with me, sweetie. Up the wooden hill we go." The two steadied each other as they journeyed up the stairs, Logan pushing open the door to his room. It was surprisingly clean and organized, but Logan suspected that Angelo's room had always been like that. There was a poster of the periodic table of elements on the wall and a bookshelf filled with various books that Logan didn't get a good look at, other than seeing a few Harry Potter titles and science books. But he wasn't there to look at books; he was there to turn his boyfriend into a whimpering, moaning, purring puddle. Angelo sat down on his bed to take off his shoe, and Logan waited for that and that alone before doing exactly what he said he'd do. Taking off Angelo's jacket first, then his shirt, all while landing sweet kisses on Angelo's neck as he whimpered. "Quiet, honeybunch, someone might hear us."

"How do you expect me to be quiet when you're doing tha-mmph!" He forced himself to be silent. That was the last straw for Pepsi, who bolted from Angelo's bed. The moans grew louder and louder, until he was quickly silenced by a pillow in his mouth.

"I knew you were needy for me," Logan muttered, as he started stroking the boy's inner thigh. "You are my precious little toy, and I get to play with you whenever I want, however I want. Got it?"

Angelo spat out the pillow. "Yes, Logan," he obediently replied, as he squirmed in Logan's arms.

"Don't squirm like that, you're in safe hands," Logan hushed, with those safe hands now on Angelo's butt. "No need to worry. Just relax."

"I've just never done anything like this before," Angelo confessed.

"We've made out before."

"But I never took anyone into my room before."

"Then being the very first is an honour. Now, what do I need to do to you to make you take everything off and beg for me?" Logan whispered. He kissed Angelo breathless and started taking off his own shirt.

"I'm not ready for that yet." Angelo kept his face in his hands.

"So I'll just play with your hot body until you melt then, shall I?" Logan asked, wanting nothing more than to dominate his boyfriend. That was proving to be incredibly easy, as all the love bites on his body and the hands that explored his body without reservations or hesitation and made him squirm and shudder. "Oh, I love this about you. My precious toy. I love you, you little cutie pie."

"I l-love you, too," Angelo stammered. "Baby, go slower. I c-can't take it anymore."

"But going faster makes you so happy," Logan cooed. He started giving Angelo faster kisses with his hands on Angelo's ass, covering his mouth when he heard a long, low moan. "See?" The moans were muffled by Logan's dainty, small hand. "Precious baby boy. My cute, submissive toy that I can do whatever I want with. You love all of this, isn't that right?" To coax a proper answer out of him, he groped Angelo's sensitive parts, and he whimpered.

"Mmhmm," Angelo agreed.

"Aww, simply precious." The groping and kissing continued, and he purred happily, sweaty and tired. Logan would have to stop. "How about we do this again sometime?"

"Oh, yes," Angelo seconded, breathing heavily. His eyelids drooped. "That felt so good. How do you know how to do that?"

"Silly baby. You and your sensitive body are so easy for me to play with," Logan taunted, before kissing the breath out of Angelo for the last time that day and putting his shirt back on. "I just need to do this to you and you'll be seeing me in your dreams for weeks. Bye, Angelo."

"B-bye, Logan," Angelo stuttered, trying to collect himself as Logan left his room. The redhead intentionally made his hands wet under the bathroom sink before going down the stairs.

"Logan? What are you doing upstairs?" Roselle asked. "When did you come back?"

"I just needed to use your toilet, so I went upstairs for a while," Logan fibbed, smiling innocently. "I brought Angelo and Pepsi back about an hour ago." Roselle looked at the boy's hands, saw that they were dripping wet, and didn't think about it.

"Oh, good. Such a responsible boy," Roselle gushed. "Will you be staying longer?"

"I need to say goodbye to Angelo first," Logan replied. "I'll just go to his room and see if he's OK. I know which one it is. I saw him go in."

"Of course." Angelo's mother allowed Logan to go back upstairs to say a few last words to his boyfriend.

"Babe?" Logan whispered, his breath tickling Angelo's ear. "I have to go now. I just couldn't leave without telling you something. You are my sweet little toy, and I just can't wait to play with you again. It'll be so much fun for both of us, but mainly you. Goodbye, baby boy." He then left, and Angelo's head spun, the only word in his mind being his boyfriend's name. "Bye, Mrs Riva."

" _Ciao_ (3), Logan," Roselle greeted, as the redhead left. "Angelo, are you OK?" Angelo was still in bed, but he had stripped down to his boxers, covered himself in a blanket and went to sleep, dreaming filthy dreams about his boyfriend, covers pulled up to his neck. " _Mio bambino._ (4)" Satisfied, she left.

* * *

Over at Logan's house, Caleb was shocked to see Logan race to the toilet immediately upon coming home. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Um, stomach pain," Logan replied. "Excuse me." He then locked himself into the toilet for the next ten minutes, with muffled grunts being heard occasionally.

"Someone just got to see their boyfriend," Caleb muttered, shoving a pillow over his head so he didn't hear what his baby brother was doing.

* * *

Translations

1: Come on, Pepsi. Bye, Mum and Dad. I love you. Italian.

2: I love you too, Angelo. Italian.

3: Bye, Logan. Italian.

4: My baby. Italian.


	29. Possible redemption

_Time skip: from Sunday, June 8th to Monday, June 9th_

* * *

Monday morning was better than the mornings that came before it. The crowd of paparazzi wasn't at school, so the only crowd of people with cameras were outside his house, which had decreased in numbers. And Angelo received the same amount of support from his peers as ever. Everyone seemed to think that it was cool to start the day with cameras pointed at your face, no matter what Angelo tried to tell them.

"Angelo, you're famous! All those cameras just want to be around you!" someone squealed. "You have to be the coolest person ever!"

"Trust me, it's not all it's cracked up to be," Angelo told him. "I find it hard to get to school and my family finds it to be a huge nuisance because they're there all the time."

"OMG, have you heard that reporter lady with the crazy name got fired after she pulled you to the floor?" Melissa nudged the genius to get his attention just seconds after he'd gotten through the door. Angelo was surprised to hear such a thing.

"No way! Is there an article on it that I could read?" Angelo asked. Of course, there was, and it was by the newspaper she represented, too. The Daily Griffin had written an article about their own correspondent's demise, which had always seemed rather funny to Angelo. But he didn't have time to dwell on it. He had registration to get to, and he didn't want to be late.

Reuben Adler, on the other hand, wasn't having such a good day. Having ties to the infamous Maxwell Norwood-Sykes was bad enough when he was just a snobby, bullying prick, but now he was a criminal, the lowest of the low. The fact that Maxwell had been arrested at school for helping with the kidnapping of someone people idolized didn't help anything. The beefy boy was jostled and given dirty looks by just about everyone he came into contact with. Being in registration felt like all the eyes staring at him were drilling a hole into his back and it hurt.

"Settle down so I can take the register," Miss Turrets ordered, and they settled down . . . barely. As the register droned on, Reuben heard the whispering that the teachers didn't. These whispers floated over to his ears and burned them badly.

"Can't believe he has the nerve to show up around here, after what Maxwell did."

"Reckon he helped Maxwell plan the kidnapping?"

"No, he's too thick for that. Maxwell only had him as muscle."

"Muscle? I don't see any muscle. It's more like pure fat. A stupid, fat blob."

When the bell rang, Reuben couldn't wait to get out of there. He didn't want to hear such mean things being said about him again. He wasn't like Maxwell, but nobody could see that. Nerds all over the school were being given the cold shoulder because they reminded the other kids of Maxwell. The same went for rich kids to a degree, but nerds got much worse treatment. How could one person have such a negative effect on the whole school? On the way to his social studies, Reuben was deliberately tripped over by a group of athletic girls. As he looked up at them with fear, they sneered down at him.

"Watch where you're going, wide load!" one girl snapped as they walked away from him, snickering and firing back dirty looks. Reuben picked himself up, dusted himself off and continued going to social studies class. He arrived to a hostile, silent classroom where everyone glowered at him. Well, almost all of them.

"Hey, why is everyone glaring at Reuben?" Angelo asked.

"Because he's Maxwell's friend, and Maxwell is evil and in prison for helping with your kidnapping," Logan reminded his boyfriend.

"Has Reuben done anything himself to deserve being hated, other than being friends with Maxwell?"

"No."

"Maybe we should give him a chance," Angelo suggested. Logan stared at him, incredulous. He just couldn't believe what was coming out of Angelo's mouth. "I have a hunch that Reuben was only an asshole because he was with Maxwell, and Maxwell was an asshole. Now Maxwell's gone, maybe Reuben will be nicer and not a total prick any more."

"And if you're wrong and he's still a prick?"

"We can at least say we tried. Reuben never seemed like he was calling the shots. Every time I ever saw him, Maxwell was calling the shots, not Reuben. Maxwell spoke first, Reuben echoed him. Maybe now, he won't be so mean because there's no strong influence in his life that's telling him to be mean to everyone." It all seemed to make sense.

"Fine, I'll go along with it, but only because you're doing it," Logan huffed.

"That's probably what Reuben was thinking," Angelo pointed out. Reuben, meanwhile, was begging for his bag back from the Red Bandanas.

"Nice bag. Did Maxwell buy it for you?" Marcus snapped.

"My dad got me that! Give it back!" Reuben pleaded. The rest of the class chose to ignore it. If anything bad happened to an old friend of Maxwell's these days, chances are that they deserved it.

"Hey! Leave him alone!" Angelo ordered. Everyone stared at the genius. Marcus dropped the bag in shock, and Reuben scrambled to get it back.

"Why are you helping me?" Reuben asked.

"Good question, fat boy. Why are you helping a guy that hung out with the biggest asshole of all time, robot boy?" Jay asked.

"I have a theory that Reuben was only a jerk because Maxwell was," Angelo explained. Reuben seemed hopeful upon hearing this. Someone actually thought that he was capable of changing and being a better person. However, literally everyone else thought that person was wrong.

"Any proof?" Elijah asked.

"You can tell every time you see Maxwell and Reuben together. Maxwell always spoke first, and Reuben just copied him, no matter how mean it was. If Maxwell's not there, Reuben won't have anything to copy," Angelo explained. Tyrell approached Reuben slowly, making the boy shake with fear.

"We'll let you have this one because Angelo's here. But if you turn out to be just as much of an asshole as your rich prick friend, then don't expect Angelo to help you," Tyrell warned. And with that, the Red Bandanas retreated. Mr Carey entered the room with a project for the class to do.

"Class, we'll be looking at the court system and the way it works," the geography teacher introduced. "This will involve looking at rather extraordinary cases. These cases include notorious child murderers and serial killers. If anyone needs to take a moment outside, then that is absolutely fine."

"How old must you be to be considered an adult, legally speaking?" Angelo asked.

"Eighteen," Mr Carey replied.

"Can we use Maxwell as an example?" Reuben asked. Jaws dropped with shock. Was Reuben seriously willing to go against his friend, a person he had been loyal to for so long?

"That's not up to me," Mr Carey told him. "Angelo?"

"Fine, but I can't tell you anything about the case," Angelo agreed, staring at the table.

"But it's so interesting!" Jay blurted out. That turned out to be the wrong thing to say.

"Is it?" Angelo asked, with fire in his eyes. "So it's interesting to have your parents at your bedside in a hospital you've never been in before, knowing that you got hurt and it's their fault?"

"I - um-" Jay stammered. A tense silence took hold.

"Angelo, if you need to leave the room, you can do so at any time," Mr Carey told him.

"Thank you for offering, sir, but I'm fine with talking about Maxwell. It's the . . . other defendants that give me the creeps," Angelo explained. Mr Carey took that as a sign to continue with the lesson.

"What debate do child criminals resurrect?" Mr Carey questioned.

"How old do you have to be to know right from wrong?"

"Whether or not incarcerating children is ethical?"

"Nature over nurture?"

"Good. All very good. Now, let's look at the case against Maxwell Norwood-Sykes. What could the defence use to get him a lighter sentence or even a not guilty verdict?" Mr Carey asked.

"They could say that he can't be convicted because he's a minor and he has to do his GCSEs in a year's time," Louise suggested.

"Being a minor isn't a legal defence, and Maxwell's GCSEs and even his A-levels can be done from prison," Angelo explained. Louise sat down, feeling rather relieved that this wouldn't work, but annoyed that she was wrong.

"Anyone else?" Mr Carey's stare started on one end of the room and finished at the other. "Nobody?"

"What if there's no evidence against him?" Logan asked.

"There are apparently a bunch of messages he sent to them, so there goes that idea," Winston pointed out.

"Why are you even bothering? That guy is rolling in dough. He'll just get an expensive lawyer and get off because of some loophole," Marcus sighed. "That's how rich people do stuff. Fancy cars and fancy lawyers to help them out when they need it."

"I hope that isn't what happens here. If he's found not guilty or if there's a hung jury, then he'll just come back here," Angelo worried aloud. "And I don't ever want to see his smug, slimy face again."

"In that case, the prosecution had better do a good job," Logan sighed.

"Otherwise the only ones being punished out of the whole situation is us," Melissa replied, nonchalantly. Logan forced his hand over his mouth so nobody heard giggling.

"If he isn't found guilty, I bet his family end up moving away from the shame of it all," Angelo remarked. "And good riddance, too. Never liked the little creep." Logan gasped with shock. "Logan, are you OK?"

"I did not expect you to say that," Logan said, still pale.

"Class, we have a lesson to continue!" Mr Carey boomed. And Maxwell was forgotten . . . except for when he wasn't. Which was all the time.

* * *

Susan Harding watched in prison as her carefully crafted plan fell apart around her. She'd done everything she could to keep their identities hidden. She remembered when and how they used fake names and the best fake passports they could get their hands on, and how much they celebrated when it worked. (There was never an 'if' for them.) She remembered the five different email accounts and five different phone numbers. Recruiting people in anonymous chatrooms. Setting up bases and allies all around the world so there was always somewhere for them to hide and people to protect them and send the police on a wild goose chase.

The papers had called the gang "audacious" and "cunning" and, best of all, "elusive". Susan had always liked hearing words like that about herself. It meant she was doing stuff right. She remembered how she and the rest of the gang read these papers, laughed at all the police officers that couldn't catch them, and tossed them away for someone else to read. They were at the top of their game. Everything was perfect until they got that message from some kid one day, telling them that they knew a child prodigy called Angelo Riva, and this boy lived in the same town as them and went to their school. They even provided a photo of the kid to use, the school they went to (meaning they could follow him once he got out and waited for him to stay still in any particular place) and articles of their achievements. Practically an entire dossier. It was too good an opportunity for them to miss and they'd never messed anything up before, so they went for it. Everything seemed perfect. When they had him with them, they didn't suspect that anything was wrong. He was just like the other captives, scared and confused. Maybe not as nerdy-looking as the others, but that didn't actually matter to them. What mattered was that he knew about the things they wanted him to know about, and that he could do the things they wanted him to do.

But Angelo was different. Angelo did what none of the others ever did: he got himself out and got the police involved. They woke up at 7:00 AM to the sounds of sirens and some guy on a megaphone yelling orders at them to come out. She remembered small parts of what happened that fateful day. Ordering her soldiers to arm themselves while she got herself an empty gun. She didn't need to load it, it was just to scare him into doing what she said. Putting that gun to Angelo's head and locking him inside an empty cell. Sending the biggest, strongest member over to that cell to "teach him what we do to rats". Being arrested herself and marched to a police car. The interrogations that she always answered "no comment" to, as advised by her solicitor. She didn't want to let the New Wave of Intellect down. She'd worked too hard for this to be the end.

But that seemed to have happened already. One by one, she'd seen the men and women she'd recruited crumble and agree to plead guilty to the charges against them, as well as testify against the leader. Her. First it was their doctor, then the guards she posted at the door, then her closest allies. Everyone had turned against her, and that seemed to include her solicitor. "Susan, at this stage, it is best for you to plead guilty and give a confession in order to reduce your sentence," she told the imprisoned gang leader. A broken woman now, Susan nodded, and went against everything her solicitor had previously told her.

"Fine. I'll tell them everything. Everyone else has."

* * *

Over at the Blackwater Institution for Young Offenders, Maxwell was being ordered around by his cellmate, who Maxwell had learned was called Kane. Currently, he was forced into massaging Kane's feet for him, while Kane looked down and smirked at the disgusted expression on Maxwell's face. This sounded like something he would make servants do to him, not something he would have to do to someone else. And he hated it.

"Don't forget to massage between the toes, Maxie," Kane ordered, sitting on the bottom bunk while the heir apparent to a furniture empire kneeled on the floor, rubbing at the soles of his feet and feeling sick. They could be seen by just about anyone that walked by their cell, so jokes about Kane's little slave were going to run rampant around the jail pretty soon. Maxwell could hear snickering all around him, but he couldn't turn around or Kane would . . . he would . . . he didn't know what Kane would do, but it would probably hurt. A lot. Maxwell knew about, or had at least heard of what could happen to boys like him in prison, small boys that got put in with larger ones. He just knew he wouldn't survive for much longer unless he was found not guilty. Until then, he would be stuck rubbing Kane's feet, getting him his food in the cafeteria so he didn't have to wait in line and listening to him and his friends suggest . . . other things for him to do to Maxwell next, while he lay in his uncomfortable bed on the bottom bunk, pretending to be asleep or doing something when they came in and hoping nothing bad happened to him.

"Phone call for Maxwell Norwood-Sykes," a correctional officer notified. Maxwell gratefully got off the floor and had a supervised phone call with the lawyer representing him. He had bad news.

"Maxwell, everyone in this gang pleaded guilty for a lesser sentence and at least five are testifying against you," Jeremiah Coburn informed. "At this point, the best thing you can do is plead not guilty to it all and protest your innocence even more." Jeremiah Coburn knew that his client was guilty as sin, but he thought that having no confession would be harder for the prosecution to deal with. Unfortunately, they had plenty of electronic evidence against Maxwell, and it would take everything he had to get Maxwell out of this.

"What? Can't we just have this settled in youth court, since I'm under eighteen?" Maxwell protested.

"Not with your charges," Jeremiah pointed out, sounding rather mournful. (Sounding is the operative word here. He would get paid no matter the verdict.)

"How long could I be in here?" Maxwell asked.

"Nineteen years. Twelve for the kidnapping, seven for the grievous bodily harm," Jeremiah told him. Maxwell wanted to cry. He hated this prison, and now he was hearing that he could be in there for nineteen years.

Maxwell leaned in closer to the phone, desperate to know more. "When's my trial going to take place?"

"July 17th," Jeremiah concluded. "Anyway, I have to get back to work. I'll call as soon as I can." Maxwell heard a click on the other end of the line, and the disgraced teenager held back a sob as he put the phone back on the receiver. Angelo Riva, in his mind, had ruined his life, even though the prodigy hadn't done anything to Maxwell to deserve such a fate. A correctional officer escorted him back to his cell, where Kane and three of his buddies were lying in wait.

"Maxie, a few friends of mine heard about your skills as a masseuse and would like some . . . services from you," Kane told him, as all four of them grinned wolfishly at the trapped blond. And all Maxwell could do, as two of them got up and began to approach him, was cry.

* * *

Logan was walking Angelo home after school (which had been their usual routine ever since he'd come back from hospital) when the black-haired genius got a phone call. "Excuse me, Logan," Angelo said, as he took the call. He was relatively quiet, so whoever was on the other end of the phone call had to be doing most of the talking. All Logan heard from Angelo was, "Uh-huh. Yes. Thank you. I'll pass that on to my mother. Thank you for your services." He hung up, and Logan was worried. That was a short phone call.

"Are you OK?" Logan asked. Angelo turned to look at him, and while Logan expected his face to run with tears, there was a big, happy smile on Angelo's face that stretched from ear to ear. "Angelo, what was on that call?"

"Logan, let's go to my house and I'll tell you everything," Angelo promised. The walk wasn't too far from where they were now, so Logan agreed. They got to Angelo's house, Angelo let them in and the two sat down on the sofa. Angelo set his crutches aside.

"What happened, Angelo?" Logan asked, immediately after they sat down.

"It's about the trials . . . they just changed their pleas to guilty on all charges. I don't have to testify and give evidence in front of them. Neither do you. Nobody does." Angelo's face, once clouded with worry, soon broke out into a huge smile. Then he started hugging Logan, hard, kicking his crutches away with his one good foot and not flinching even the slightest when they clattered to the floor. "The lawyer my parents hired couldn't get hold of my parents, so she got hold of me and told me to tell my parents on her behalf."

"Angelo, that's great!" Logan squealed, hugging him hard. Angelo giggled as his boyfriend's fingers dug into his ribs, hugging him back. From there, the two started to listen to _Panic! At The Disco_ songs while using a dual splitter and two sets of headphones.

"This feels nice," Angelo murmured, keeping Logan close to him, the redhead's tiny body giving him a sense of security. "You with me, all cosy together. I like it."

"Like when we're watching movies together?" Logan asked, taking out the headphones to hear his boyfriend talk. "Or maybe playing Nintendo?"

Angelo sat up straight and grinned. "Yeah, I love movies! And I've never played video games before, so that should be fun!"

"Got it. Lots of movies. I'll bring popcorn and snacks, and a few suggestions for movie nights," Logan recapped.

"Not all the time, though. For me, it's either movies or a walk," Angelo replied. "Loud places make me nervous. I feel like the room's getting smaller and the other people are getting closer and louder." Logan took this into consideration for future dates.

"Thanks for telling me," Logan said.

"And thanks for walking me home," Angelo thanked. "It's a sweet gesture, it really is. Not everyone would have been prepared to do it."

"But I had to," Logan insisted. "What if you tripped and couldn't get back up afterwards?"

"This is why you are the best boyfriend ever," Angelo giggled. A comfortable silence took hold, before Angelo asked, "You reckon Maxwell will plead guilty?"

"Honey, you've met that guy. According to him, he's never guilty."

"Fair point. My parents still want to go to the trial so they can stare at him and make him feel even slightly guilty for putting me in danger. It's the only trial involving my kidnapping I wouldn't have to testify in." Logan leaned over and hugged him, tightly.

"Oh, thank God," Logan smiled. "I've never had to testify in court before."

"You'll probably end up on jury duty sometime after turning eighteen though," Angelo told him.

"But that's not for a while," Logan smiled. "Let's take things day by day." Angelo smiled.

"Yes," he agreed. "Let's."


	30. Videos, interviews and lies

_Tuesday, June 10th_

* * *

After his harrowing encounter with the Red Bandanas and Angelo's compromise about their treatment of him, Reuben tried to be nice. His life basically depended on it now, what with the Red Bandanas breathing down his neck. He tried to help a girl with her bag (it had slipped off the back of her wheelchair), but she slapped his hand away.

"Honestly, what is wrong with you? Just because I'm in a wheelchair doesn't mean I'm helpless!" she snapped, picking up her bag and wheeling herself away.

"I-I'm sorry!" Reuben blurted out.

"You should be!" she snapped, as she left. Reuben, in desperation, tried looking for someone else to help, and saw Angelo. One of his crutches was on the floor and he went to get it for him. But just before he could get to it, that god-damned Logan Dobson that Maxwell had gone insane over (to a degree), got it for him. Reuben sat down and collapsed onto the table, quietly crying. Logan and Angelo were rather worried. They'd never seen Reuben cry before. He would smirk when Maxwell smirked at people, and scowl when Maxwell scowled, but he had never cried. At least, not in front of them.

"Are you OK?" Angelo queried, worried that Reuben would lash out at him.

"People hate me!" Reuben wailed. Other people, looking on at the situation and feeling awkward, decided to leave or got to a part of the library further away from them. Angelo and Logan got closer. Logan pulled up a chair for the brunette.

"Reuben, sit down," Logan invited, although Reuben could tell it wasn't a request. The teen sat down, and unloaded everything onto the duo.

"Everyone's been giving me dirty looks ever since Maxwell's been arrested because I used to be his friend, but when I try to help people, like you do, I feel like I'm doing everything wrong!" Reuben complained. "I'm not a genius like you, Angelo, but I can tell when people hate me."

"They don't hate you. They hate who you used to be," Angelo explained. "They've met Maxwell's sidekick, but they've never met Reuben."

"What's your point?" Reuben sniffled, wiping tears away with his meaty hands.

"People will pick on you for a little while, but you just need to let them meet the real Reuben, without Maxwell around. I heard he's a nice guy once you get to know him properly," Angelo joked. Reuben, despite himself, giggled. He had a cute laugh.

"Thank you," Reuben replied, as the bell went and people left the library for registration.

"You were surprisingly nice to Reuben, considering . . . you know," Logan told him.

"Considering what?" Angelo asked, looking like he was about to ask Logan to finish his sentence.

"Considering he used to help Maxwell bully you and stuff. Remember when they would pretend your name was Andre and told you to hand over your note to them because they didn't trust you and stuff like that?" Logan reminded his seemingly forgetful boyfriend.

"Now I think about it, that was mostly Maxwell. Reuben was his lackey the whole time," Angelo told his boyfriend. "He only did it because Maxwell said so."

"I hope you're right about this," Logan sighed, as they watched registration slowly draw to a close.

"I hope so, too," Angelo sighed. They got a chance to find out during break, when most people would be on their phones. That was when they finally saw the video of Reuben talking about Maxwell, and that was when he finally began to get some respect and admiration from his peers.

"Hey, kid, nice one!" someone said, letting a hand smack Reuben's back as they walked away.

"Now that's cool," someone agreed.

"Hey big guy. Nice one," Marcus grinned, the other Red Bandanas settling for a grin and a nod in his direction.

"No way, check this out! Reuben called Maxwell a piece of shit on national television! It's gone viral!" Angelo gasped, handing his phone over to Logan so his boyfriend could see everything that was going on. Logan watched the minute-long video and his jaw dropped.

"Now this is something I can respect Reuben for," Logan grinned. "I hope Maxwell can see this from prison."

"I thought you weren't allowed phones in prison."

"But there might be a TV there."

Angelo looked at him with a critical look in his eyes. "Sure, there might be one, but I doubt he'll see it. I mean, what are the chances of that happening?"

"Fair point."

* * *

In Blackwater Institute for Young Offenders, Maxwell was trying to escape from his tormentors and prison chores in the break room. The news was playing on the TV, obviously having been left on by a guard that was on break. International headlines were about to come on, and Maxwell desperately wanted to know what was going on outside the prison. "And here we see one of his classmates giving his truly scathing opinion about the informant of the kidnappers, Maxwell Norwood-Sykes, some of which we have to censor for the sake of our viewers." Maxwell saw the video of Reuben calling him a piece of shit, and he flew into a rage. Chairs were thrown and tables were toppled.

"Reuben Adler, you fucking traitor! I trusted you! I trusted you, you asshole, and then you talk about me like that! Good thing I said you weren't my friend first, scumbag!" The screams attracted attention from another inmate, who called some guards over. These guards grabbed Maxwell and took him away.

"You are going to be kept in solitary confinement for the next two weeks for violent and aggressive behaviour," one guard told him, as the rather chubby blond kicked and screamed all the way over to a new cell. These screams were so loud, chills went down other prisoner's spines.

"What the fuck is going on?" one boy asked another.

"Probably someone going mental. It happens once or twice a week round here. Just forget it," his cellmate advised. The first inmate nodded and promptly ignored it.

Maxwell was shoved into a small cell with little lighting and a tiny, uncomfortable bed. It was clearly only built for one person. How had he gotten this low? The chubby blonde cried bitter tears as he tried to fall asleep. If he spent most of his time sleeping, then this wouldn't be so bad. But the hard, uncomfortable bed was nothing like what he was used to at home, and he would have to get used to that. If he was found guilty, then he would have nineteen years to get used to it.

* * *

At 3:00 PM, the end of the school day, Angelo was being walked home by Logan, who was being very flirty. One hand had been inserted into the back pocket of his jeans, causing the adolescent inventor no end of embarrassment. But Logan didn't seem to care about that. "Logan!" Angelo whined, blushing as Logan poked and prodded his sides. "Don't do that! At least wait until we're inside!"

"Nah," Logan teased, groping and squeezing where he could. The blushing red genius tried to get away, but Logan was willing to make sure Angelo got home safely first. But apparently, this wasn't going to be easy.

"Obviously, the kidnapping of Angelo Riva has been very hard for my family to cope with. However, nobody has taken this anywhere near as badly as me, because I spent so much time with Angelo when we were little, playing chess, watching Pokémon and . . . other nerdy things like that. I'm his nonidentical twin brother and I know basically everything about him," Rosario Riva lied, as the many cameras of a news crew recorded, flashed and clicked away. He basked in the attention, feeling like a movie star or a superhero of some sort, giving his version of events to the press. Angelo and Logan quickly backed away from the house and sat on a public bench to think about what to do next.

"Angelo, it's another camera crew. What do we do?" Logan hissed.

"I've got this," Angelo replied, calling his Aunt Maria, Rosario's mother. "Aunt Maria, something's wrong. It looks like Rosario's letting a bunch of strangers into my parent's house. Why is he here? Where are you?"

"I came over to Willowdale, where you live, and I went to this little supermarket, Angelo. I'm still there, but I'll be over as soon as I can," Aunt Maria replied. She sounded worried, which meant Plan A was going perfectly. The only bit of bad news was that the supermarket was on the other side of town to them, so it would take a while for Rosario's parents to come over.

"OK," he replied, and hung up. "Time for Part 2 of Plan A." He texted his father about the situation, and he told him everything.

Angelo: _Dad, there are a bunch of reporters in front of our house. Rosario's talking to them for some reason. Could you come over once you are done picking up Mirella?_

Dad: _Of course, son. Try to get the reporters to move as much as you can, but don't hurt them._

"Logan, stay here, please," Angelo instructed. "I don't want you to have to get involved in this."

"Fine," Logan agreed, very worried about his boyfriend. That was when Angelo approached the news crew.

"What the hell is going on?" Angelo asked. The cameras turned towards him, and Rosario pretended to be Angelo's best friend.

"There was a camera crew just waiting for someone to talk to, and I was there, so I talked to them." But Angelo wasn't buying any of this.

"Why are you here and not in school, or at home?" Angelo asked.

"We were worried about you after the whole kidnapping thing, so we came over," Rosario explained.

"And you are absolutely sure that the news crew was here before you were?" Angelo interrogated.

"Yes, of course! Why else would they be here?" the chubby teen insisted. "They must have been waiting for you to come home so they could harass you with questions." That was when the news crew turned on him.

"But _we_ paid _you_ to come here, sir," one reporter angrily chimed in. The rest of the crew murmured in agreement. "You said you knew a lot about Angelo Riva and the life he used to live before coming to Willowdale and were willing to tell us about him if we came to this address and paid you £250 upfront in cash before the interview took place."

"We have emails that we can show you, if you want," someone else supplied. Angelo and Rosario were horrified, but for different reasons.

"This is where I live! Rosario, you told a news crew to meet you in front of the house where I live! How could you? And since when did you know where I lived?" Angelo blurted out. The news crew seemed to feel rather guilty, and Rosario was squirming on the spot. Angelo turned to the person closest to him. "Ma'am, I hate that I have to do this to you, but what else did Rosario tell you about me?"

"He said that he lived here with you, that you were his nonidentical twin brother, and that you got along great when you were kids and he knows everything about you," she replied.

"First, he doesn't live with me and has never lived with me, unless Easter counts. Second, he's my cousin on my father's side of the family, not my nonidentical twin brother. This is the only reason why we have the same surname. Third, Rosario has teased me about being a nerd for as long as I can remember and simply refused to play with me when we were little because I was too much of a loser. He didn't understand chess when he was little and hated Pokémon. And after all of this just happened, I really doubt the fourth one." Angelo recounted them all like they were nothing. The news crew laughed and Rosario panicked.

"The last one's true, I swear!" he yelled, looking like he was crazy. "Ask me anything, cripple! I dare you!" Someone (it had to have been someone from the news crew) gasped at the audacity of it all.

"Don't call me a cripple, please," Angelo requested, trying not to get too emotional. He put on a big, wide smile and addressed his cousin. "So, since you know me _really_ well, I think it would be really cool if you could prove it by answering a few questions. Are you OK with that, Rosario?"

"Yeah; why not? I'll get all of them right anyway," he bragged. Angelo tried his best to stay calm while wanting to punch Rosario so badly.

"When's my birthday?" Angelo quizzed.

"September 19th," Rosario confidently answered.

"Wrong. My birthday is on April 1st. How many middle names do I have?"

"Two!" Rosario chimed.

"Actually, I have three. You can blame my dad for that. And also your dad, now that I think of it. What's my dog's name?"

"Sprite!" He was sweating now, desperate. He had to get this right.

"His name is Pepsi, not Sprite. And finally, what was the last thing you asked me to buy you?" Now Angelo was going in for the kill. By asking harmless questions first, Rosario would mindlessly answer the more damning questions when they were put to him later. And it worked like a charm.

"A PlayStation! No, the latest iPhone! Dammit, I can't remember!" Then things went from bad to worse. "You know what, Angelo? I've decided! Just get me both! Besides, you're set for life, remember? Your parents made a deal. You can totally afford to buy all that stuff. And my birthday's three months away. You know I need a present." Rosario did his best to sweet-talk his cousin into giving him stuff, but the genius was horrified by Rosario's behaviour.

"I'm sorry, Rosario, but I don't give expensive gifts to people that lie right to my face and call me things like cripple," the genius replied, disappointed. Rosario was about to throw a punch in Angelo's face, but that was when everything got so much worse for the bratty, fatty Italian boy.

His parents pulled up next to the house in their green, beat-up, seven-seater minivan and started to angrily berate their child in Italian. His scolding was caught on camera by the delighted news crew and would later be mocked by many, many late night TV hosts. Angelo hobbled over to a wall so he could lean on it and tried to keep from laughing. Then his parents came home, with Mirella in tow. They were utterly horrified by the situation, and Rosario was crying his eyes out as his parents scolded him in Italian. A know-it-all, smug sixteen-year-old boy crying like a little baby because he received a scolding from his mama. This was about to go viral, but for all the wrong reasons.

"Rosario, come with me. We are going home now," Uncle Valerio angrily and embarrassedly told his wayward son, as he was herded into the family minivan.

"No, Dad, no! I won't do it again! I'll even be nice to Angelo!" Rosario pleaded, but it was too little, too late. The car sped off and Angelo, along with his parents and an entire news crew, watched it leave. This wasn't going to be something that went away on its own pretty soon. That guy had literally conducted a press conference on his aunt's lawn and was then found out as a liar, for God's sake. Logan walked over to see if Angelo was OK, and found his boyfriend surrounded by his parents, his little sister and a very worried dog. (Nobody had any idea how Pepsi got out of the house, and temporarily, nobody cared.)

"What the hell just happened?" Angelo's mother asked. "And why is there a news conference on my lawn? More importantly, why are they still there? Get off my property this instant! If you are still here in the next ten seconds, I'm calling the police to have you all forcibly removed! And I'll press charges! Now go!" She pointed to the gate at the end of the lawn.

"I can't believe we actually gave money to that guy," someone from the news crew lamented, as they shuffled away.

"What's for dinner?" Mirella asked her parents. Logan snuck over to Angelo.

"Hey, sweetie. I'll see you tomorrow. Now does not seem like a good time for you," Logan whispered.

"Thanks," Angelo whispered back. Logan snuck off and went home. He was livid with Rosario. The very first time he'd met him, he'd given him dirty looks and swore at him. The second time, he'd caught Rosario eating the chocolates Angelo's well-wishers had sent him. The third time, he was conducting a falsified interview on his boyfriend's lawn. Needless to say, they weren't going to be getting along. He was just glad Angelo picked him over his lying cousin.

"Angelo, is Rosario going to come back?" Mirella asked. "I don't like him; he's mean."

"I don't think he'll come back unless he wants something from me, and he doesn't like me anyway, so we're fine," Angelo explained. "Now you go inside and get changed." Mirella giggled and ran inside where it was safe, Angelo and Pepsi in her wake. The Riva parents looked at them and smiled.

"Angelo and Mirella are just great together," Bonaventura smiled.

"I know! It's adorable!" Roselle gushed. A comfortable silence took over the married couple, until their father broke it four hours later, at precisely 8:00 PM. (Nobody knows how they managed to maintain a comfortable silence for so long.)

"It's awfully quiet in there. How long do you think it'll take for Mirella to tell Pepsi to play with Angelo just to torture him?"

"That's going to happen in three . . . two . . . one."

"BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! GET OFF ME!" Angelo screamed.

"How did you know that?"

"A mother always knows. Now go break it up before stuff gets destroyed."

"Fine," their father replied, as he went up to the source of the laughter, which was the living room. Angelo was on the couch, laughing hysterically as Pepsi licked his stomach and Mirella scratched his neck. "Pepsi, Mirella, get off of your big brother!" Pepsi and Mirella jumped off the sofa immediately, running away to play in Mirella's room. "Angelo, are you OK? Was the big doggy mean to you?" he baby-talked.

"Papa (1), if I wanted to feel helpless and embarrassed, I would ask the dog to play with me," Angelo groaned. Pepsi burst into the room and began to lick Angelo's stomach all over again. "Hahahahahahahaha! Hey! No!"

"OK, just wanted to check on you," he replied, as he draped his son's body in a throw blanket and shooed the dog away again. The next time he looked at his son's face, it was red with shame. "Son?"

"I'm too old for this," Angelo complained. "I shouldn't be getting tucked into bed, not at fifteen!"

"This isn't a bed; this is technically a sofa," his father corrected. "Try not to get too sleepy, Angelo, or I won't be able to tell you more about how atoms are formed."

"You know I'm not four any more, right?" Angelo asked, cynical.

"I know, but I'm still doing it. Now, I hope you're comfortable, because I'm about to tell you about the start of everything, the Big Bang . . ." From there, the patriarch of the Riva family talked very happily and at length about how the universe expanded from a high-density, high-temperature state, the existence of cosmic microwave background radiation and Hubble's law. Angelo drifted off to sleep just before his dad got to explain how the Steady State model worked and why it was flawed.

"What did I tell you about sending Angelo to sleep using an explanation of the Big Bang theory?" Roselle asked.

"Don't knock it till you've tried it," Bonaventura grunted. "Now it's your turn. You put Mirella to bed, and I'll meet you upstairs once you're done." She nodded and let her husband got to bed, while she checked on Mirella. She was playing on Angelo's phone, and judging from the low battery warnings, had been doing this for a while.

"Mirella, why do you have your brother's phone?" she asked.

"He . . . um, said I was allowed to play with it!" Mirella lied.

"Well, hand it over. It still needs to charge and Angelo might be mad," she instructed. "It's a school night, young lady." Mirella sighed and handed over the precious phone.

"Here," Mirella huffed. "Mamma (2), now I'm bored."

"Oh, don't worry, Mirella. Maybe if you're bored, you can count sheep and go to sleep faster," their mother replied, smiling as she left her daughter to go to sleep, plugging the phone into a charger as she went. Mirella pouted about it, but in the end, sleep came for her, too. Soon, everyone was asleep, dreaming of a new day.

* * *

Translations

1: Dad. Italian.

2: Mom/Mum. Italian.


	31. Phone calls

_Time skip: from Wednesday, June 11th to Thursday, June 12th_

* * *

Thursday, June 12th started off the same way as every day had since Angelo returned home from hospital. Logan picked him up from school at 8:15, they walked to school together, dodged at least one person from the media thrusting a microphone into their faces and eventually got to school, where they were subsequently bombarded by . . . basically everyone. Who didn't bombard them at this point? But now, everyone was asking about his cousin, not the kidnapping. Angelo and Logan went into the library to talk to them, like a press conference. People grabbed chairs and gathered round.

"Is that guy actually your cousin?" Melissa asked. Angelo nodded. "Is he always that much of an unapologetic douchebag?"

"Unfortunately," Angelo snarked. "But this is a whole new level of crazy, even for him."

"How did it start?" Melissa interrogated.

Angelo took a deep breath. "Logan was walking me home from school and-"

"Wait. WHAT?!" Louise squeaked. Everyone stared at her. "He walked you home?"

"He's been doing it ever since I came home from hospital," Angelo admitted.

"Aww," the other kids cooed. Angelo and Logan looked at each other and grinned, blushing.

"So sweet," Melissa gushed. "What next?"

"Just before we got to Angelo's house, we saw him there, talking to a bunch of reporters on the lawn in front of his house and feeding them a pack of lies," Logan recounted. "Like how he was Angelo's nonidentical twin brother. How he knew everything about him. That they played together as kids. They basically paid him to stand there and lie."

"How much did they give him?" Jay asked.

"£250," Angelo reported. Several low whistles could be heard.

"That is a lot," Marcus remarked. "And they just . . . gave it to him?"

"In cash, upfront, before he said anything," Angelo recounted. "Tactics-wise, a bad move. Never hand over the money first. Get whatever you're asking for, then you hand over their payment."

"And he did this in front of your house?" Elijah asked. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, I know," Angelo chuckled, embarrassed. "And it's now national news. His parents have been calling the house to apologize to me and my family all day. They made him apologize, too."

"Well, at least something good came out of this whole situation," Courtney huffed. "How long will it take for him to come back?"

Angelo raised an eyebrow in confusion. "I'm sorry, what? Who's coming back?"

"Rosario, your cousin," Courtney replied. "How long will it take for him to come back here to see you?"

"Not until the summer holidays start, I think." Angelo toyed with the sleeve of his hoodie. "And even then, his parents are going to be keeping a tight rein on him. They haven't let him out of their sight in years."

"Yeesh, that bad?" Logan blurted out. "My mother can at least trust me to not turn the entire family against me in the space of an hour."

"And he's about to turn seventeen," Angelo sighed. "He thought that he could just, you know, tell me to do stuff for him like give him expensive gifts, and I'd do it because we're family. It doesn't work that way, especially since he only paid attention to me to make fun of me when we were younger. Besides, even if I could, I wouldn't."

"What do you mean, 'even if you could'?" Logan asked. "Angelo, is there something you aren't telling me?"

"The Momentum deal I made means I still have the money, but I can't spend it until I am at least eighteen. I think Maxwell told you this already," Angelo explained. The redhead nodded. Like a lot of important things about Angelo, Maxwell had told everyone before he had a chance.

"What happens next?" Logan asked.

"Easy. He's going to call me up and tell me it's all my fault," Angelo predicted.

Logan chuckled. "That's just-" He was interrupted by Angelo's phone ringing. The caller ID said Rosario.

"I would just like to take this moment to say I told you so," Angelo replied, before picking up.

"This is all your fault, Angelo!" Rosario screamed. Even without speakerphone, they could hear him.

"I don't understand. How is what my fault?"

"You posted that video of me online!"

"No, that was the reporters you hired so you could lie about your relationship with me on camera and make yourself look good. I've never posted a video online."

"What about the confession one?"

"That wasn't me, either. That was a team of journalists."

"It's still your fault, though! You helped them make me look bad!"

"Rosario, I swear on my life, I wouldn't want to help anyone make you look bad. You're doing just fine on your own in that department."

"BURN!" the crowd screamed. Rosario heard it and freaked out. Now he knew that Angelo wasn't alone.

"Who's there? Angelo, you crippled prick, who's with you?" Rosario asked. That was enough for Melissa, who snatched the phone from Angelo.

"Leave Angelo alone, shithead!" Melissa snapped. "He didn't even do anything to you, and you treat him like that?"

"Who the fuck is this?" Rosario yelled. "Angelo, stop doing stupid voices on the other end of the phone! I know it's you!" People snickered, but not too loud. Nobody wanted to give the game away. This was far too much fun for them to give it up so quickly.

"My name's not Angelo, you piece of shit, and don't you dare call again," Melissa snarled. "Stop calling this number." Enraged, she hung up on her friend's cousin, and people cheered. Angelo smiled at her, immensely grateful.

"Thank you," Angelo smiled, hugging her. She returned it, before being the one to break it off. "Thank you, Melissa. Nobody ever stands up to him. I've insulted him from time to time, but he doesn't care unless it's money. He never cares unless it's money."

"So this guy is related to a guy who escaped a hostage situation with his own pure genius and invented a car engine that would help reverse global warming, and he still thinks you're only useful for money you can't give him?" Logan asked. Angelo blushed, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah. Family, right?" the teenage inventor chuckled, but there was no happiness or nostalgia in his eyes. "Lots and lots of drama . . . hehe."

"Angelo, are you OK?" Logan asked.

"Not in the slightest, but thanks for asking," Angelo replied. "It's childish, but I want all of this to go away. Just stop and never start up again."

"It will stop. It just takes time, Angelo," his boyfriend soothed. "Come on. Let's go to registration." Angelo nodded, and soon, he forgot all about Rosario calling him. However, that wasn't going to last.

* * *

_Fast forward to lunch_

" . . . So he took the doctored orange juice and shared it with a couple of buddies. The effects don't kick in until two hours later. Him and five other guys ran out of English looking like he was about to explode or something. Around five or so kids went out of the classroom to bring them back, and they still swear on their lives that they saw a trail of diarrhoea on the floor leading to the boys' toilets!" Angelo retold, and everyone laughed. He was interrupted by his phone ringing. "This had better be some scam call centre somewhere in the Cayman Islands," Angelo muttered, taking his phone out of his pocket to find Rosario was calling him. Again. "Dammit. I'm not answering this one. He can go to voicemail."

"You know, we could make a game out of this," Logan suggested. "How many times will Rosario call Angelo before the last bell goes?" He pulled a £5 note out of his pocket. "Hey, Melissa, I bet you £5 that he'll call Angelo twice during a lesson."

"I bet you £10 that he'll call so many times, Angelo will get his phone confiscated by a teacher," Melissa countered, grinning.

"You're on."

Marcus had a suggestion. "Hey, what if Angelo's call gets interrupted by a teacher and they talk to his dumbass cousin?" The room erupted into shrieks of laughter. The laughter was too loud for anyone to notice that Angelo's phone had stopped ringing.

"That would be fun to watch," Angelo admitted. "But it's highly unlikely that he would call during a lesson because he'd also be in a lesson at the time. The chances of him getting caught are too high for him to risk it."

"Let a guy dream, Angelo!" Logan huffed.

"I'm just saying this because I know him. He doesn't do anything if he thinks he'll get caught by someone that is generally in charge, like a teacher or his parents or a cop," Angelo explained. "He'll eat my little sister's food because there's nothing she can do, but lay the table and pull chairs out for my parents because they can do stuff to him. That's how suck-ups work."

"So if he was here, he'd call us all losers, but remind the teacher of homework and leave apples on their desks," Courtney theorized.

"Exactly like that!" Angelo confirmed.

"In that case, thank God the only one who came was you," Logan smiled. Angelo blushed, staring at the floor and smiling like the dork he was.

"Um, thanks," Angelo muttered, still looking down.

"Sweetie, stop staring at the floor. The floor never deserved to be able to see such a gorgeous face," Logan teased. Angelo sat up straight with shock.

"Since when did you think I was gorgeous?" Angelo blurted out.

"Since the day I saw you sitting in the visitor's lobby," Logan replied.

"You have no right to be this much of a tease," Angelo stammered. Logan grinned.

"I know, but the look on your face is worth it," Logan taunted.

"God damn, boy." Angelo blushed a dark shade of red.

"Hey, Logan, are you done turning Angelo into mush with just words?" Melissa asked. "His face matches your hair at this rate."

"Nope," Logan grinned. "He blushes with every compliment. It's like he has no idea how hot he is."

"I'm . . . just not used to being called cute," the inventor confessed. Logan's jaw dropped.

"How come? Was everyone in your old school blind as well as arrogant little shits?"

"I used to be a nerdy looking kid."

"You can't have been that nerdy, Angelo."

Angelo chuckled, going through his phone for photos. "You sure about that?" His phone screen presented the picture of a short, skinny, pale teen, at least ten years old, wearing a suit with a shield embroidered onto the breast pocket. Underneath the shield was a Latin insignia, too small to read. He looked awkward, so he tried to cover it up with a big smile. "I was eleven years old when that photo was taken. Isn't it funny how nothing changes one day to the next, but after many years have gone by, you look back and everything's so different?"

"What made you go from skinny nerdy guy to muscled nerdy guy?"

"Nerdy kids like me got picked on a lot. It got to the point where I constantly felt depressed and pathetic, and I just wanted everything to stop. I was searching up 'ways to boost your mood' on Google, and I read that exercise helped boost the amount of endorphins your body produced. So after a bad day, I would do as many push-ups as I could until I felt like I couldn't do any more. I . . . had a lot of bad days. I didn't think the exercise was doing anything, but after a few weeks, I realized that my clothes were getting tight around my shoulders and sleeves and PE was easier. I took my shirt off in the mirror to see if the reason my clothes didn't fit was because I was getting fat . . . and I saw a set of abs. It didn't stop people being mean to me, but I felt better about myself and less depressed, which was what I had been hoping for. And because I finally liked the way I looked, I kept doing it. Well, until the broken leg, anyway."

"You didn't notice you had abs until weeks later?" Marcus blurted out. "How much do you notice?"

"I know, I'm oblivious sometimes," Angelo chuckled. "Other times, everything I see around me stands out as being important, like I need to remember it. My brain is at two very contrasting extremes at all times, and it's weird. I don't know how to describe it."

"I think absent-minded genius works best," Logan mused.

"Yeah, and so do my parents. They're confused as hell."

"I don't blame them. For lessons, you take more notes in an hour than I did over the whole week. But at that moment, you must have been very oblivious." Angelo was fiddling with the sleeve of his hoodie again. "This is totally proving my point, you know!"

"I'm sorry, Logan, I was just confused about Rosario. How did he get to Willowdale in time to host the press conference?" Angelo muttered. He got up, took his crutches and started to pace up and down as best he could. "He was on my lawn by 3:15, and at that time, he should be just coming out of school and going home. His parents had enough time to go shopping and it would still have taken him at least fifteen minutes to get to my house, so they can't have gotten here at exactly 3:15. They have to have gotten here much earlier."

"What's he doing?" Jay asked.

"Not entirely sure, but he reminds me of Sherlock Holmes with all that pacing," Logan admitted.

"But how did he get out of school in time to do this, and how did his parents not know what he was planning to do? What did he tell them?" Angelo mumbled.

"This should go on for a while," Logan sighed.

"Eureka!" Angelo blurted out. "That's how he did it! Clever, very clever! But not clever enough!"

"All right, Detective Poirot, how did he do it?" Melissa asked.

"Rosario's school allows students and their families authorized absences, AKA compassionate leave, if anything happens. Rosario muttered about it to his mother," Angelo divulged.

"What did she say?" Reuben asked.

"She asked him why he even came to see me at all if he was going to be so rude. He said, 'Even though I don't like that prat, it's still got me out of Spanish.' When he said, 'that prat', he . . . meant me," Angelo admitted.

"He said this in front of you?" Louise asked. "While you were in hospital?"

"Wow. Lovely family you've got there," Elijah sarcastically remarked.

"I don't think he knew I could hear him. I also overheard my dad and his dad argue, apparently over the time they got here," Angelo admitted. "My father was angry at my uncle for taking so long to arrive for something this important, and my uncle's reply was that he still managed to make it, and my parents should just be glad that they came at all. 'It took me an hour, but I made it in the end.' I remember that line quite clearly."

"Again, lovely family you have, Angelo," Elijah repeated.

"What does this have to do with that video that he blames you for?" Logan snapped.

"All in good time, my frustrated little leprechaun. The news crew admitted to paying Rosario to talk to them, and there were emails dating back to when I was still in hospital. Rosario waited until that day, and then begged his parents to go to Willowdale so he could see his injured cousin, which, for some reason, they and the school allowed, possibly because of the compassionate leave they were entitled to. Maybe they thought he was genuine and took a chance. Then, at the appointed time, he went to see that big news station and lied for an hour while they were live on air."

"How do you know it was an hour?" Melissa quizzed.

"My uncle sent me the full video they made of the interview, and tried to get me to get them to take it down. That video was an hour and three minutes long, if I remember correctly," Angelo chuckled. "I told him there was nothing I could do and he cursed at me and told me that I had to be loyal to family. My dad was sitting next to me the whole time. He took the phone from me and they started arguing."

"Angelo, this is genius!" Reuben blurted out. "I would never have been able to put all that together!"

"Yeah, no kidding," Elijah huffed. "Don't you know who he is?" Reuben looked away, feeling utterly humiliated. How could he be so stupid? Everyone knew that Angelo was exceptionally intelligent.

"Oh, don't be so hard on him," Angelo sighed. "Don't worry about it, Reuben." Reuben nodded.

"How can one person complain about you for so long?" Logan asked.

"It's his specialty," Angelo sighed. "Can we drop it? Family is a . . . touchy subject."

"Of course," Logan smiled, rubbing Angelo's back. Angelo straightened up, squirming in his seat and keeping himself from smiling. Logan had never meant to tease Angelo, but neither of them had anything to lose. Angelo being incredibly ticklish had been witnessed by the entire school, from pariah to popular kid, slacker to scholar. It was hardly secret.

"Logan, do you have to tease me twice in one day?" Angelo whimpered.

"Such a sweet, hot boyfriend I have!" Logan exclaimed. "Hold still. I wanna see if you still have those abs." His hands moved to the Italian's stomach, allowing a finger to explore his belly button. Angelo squeaked and seemed to be on the edge of laughing hysterically, but the redhead never allowed him to go that far. This was torture, utter torture. "Oh, look, they're still here! One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five . . . six! That's all of them! Wanna keep your figure, huh? Laying off all the pizzas your parents keep giving you?"

"Logan, stop!" Angelo begged. "Make it stop!"

"Fine, you big baby," Logan teased, and a few people chuckled. He stopped, but Angelo was still blushing. Logan snuggled close to the tuckered-out inventor. "It's good to have you back, you know that?"

"Don't you have any other ways of telling me without tihickling me?" Angelo giggled. A stray finger had nestled into Angelo's ribs, and the inventor suspected that it wasn't a complete accident.

"I do, but this works," Logan confessed.

"I hate this about me," Angelo huffed.

"I don't," Logan teased. Angelo hid his face inside his hoodie, muffling a groan. He couldn't resist that damn boy.

* * *

_Fast forward to social studies, the last lesson of the day_

"Now, class, who can tell me when same-sex marriage became legal?" Miss Turrets asked. At that point, Angelo's phone started ringing. The boy jumped. He could have sworn that he had placed it on vibrate only. The classroom tyrant's eyes narrowed and she scanned the classroom. "Whose phone is that?"

"Mine," Angelo admitted, placing the phone on the table. Miss Turrets took it, glaring at the phone.

"Angelo, you have been at this school long enough to know that phones are to be kept on silent at all times," Miss Turrets reprimanded.

"I'm sorry, miss. I thought I'd put it on silent earlier," Angelo apologized.

"You can have this after the lesson," Miss Turrets told him. She continued the lesson, but she only managed to continue teaching for about five minutes when Angelo's phone rang again.

"I knew this would happen, Logan! £10, up front." Melissa held out her hands, expecting money to be placed in them. Logan handed over all the money he had.

"I'll get the rest for you tomorrow," Logan promised. Miss Turrets had had enough.

"Angelo, if they call you one more time, you will have to answer them in front of the class," Miss Turrets ordered. Angelo gulped.

"How is this fair?" Angelo blurted out. "It's not my fault that he keeps calling me!"

"Rules are rules, Angelo," Miss Turrets monotoned, smirking slightly. "Or do you want me to treat you differently because you happen to be a genius?"

"No, miss," Angelo sighed. He was on the edge of his seat for the rest of the lesson, hoping against hope that Rosario wouldn't call again. But it was too good to be true. Ten minutes before the lesson finished, the phone rang again, and Angelo groaned. The phone was placed in front of him, and Miss Turrets sat back and smirked.

"You have a phone call to make," the evil educator notified. Angelo took it, and his hand shook for a moment. But the shaking stopped soon. He took the call, set it to speakerphone and proceeded to prank Rosario.

"Hello?" Rosario asked. "Angelo, you'd better be there! I'm not risking being grounded for a year for you to hang up!" Rosario snapped. Angelo discreetly cleared his throat and answered.

"This is Angelo's teacher, Miss Turrets. Who is this?" Angelo asked, sounding exactly like Miss Turrets. People smothered their laughter. Miss Turrets was outraged, but couldn't say a word.

"I'm so sorry, miss. I had no idea I was talking to a teacher. Did Angelo get his phone confiscated?" Rosario asked.

"Yes. He keeps receiving calls from the same number throughout my lesson," Angelo explained. "Would this happen to be you?"

"No, of course not. But I know that his mother has become very worried about him recently. Maybe you should ask her," Rosario suggested. Angelo wanted to punch him. He had just blamed his own actions on his aunt, of all people. The nerve of that kid!

"Thank you. That will be all," Angelo replied, as he hung up. From there, everyone burst out laughing. He'd gotten away with it. He'd actually gotten away with it. Miss Turrets glared daggers at Angelo. "Hey, you said I could answer him, you never said I couldn't pretend to be someone else while I was at it." Miss Turrets huffed and continued with what little of the lesson was left, but nobody was taking it, or her, seriously. At the end of the lesson, she handed Angelo back his phone.

"Angelo, if anything like this happens again, I will have to give you detention," Miss Turrets warned, releasing him to Logan. Angelo snuggled his leprechaun boyfriend, who took the cocky teenager home. Smug prick or not, he had promised that he would walk Angelo home until his leg was better and that was what he would do.

"You are a smug, teasing little prick, aren't you?" Logan taunted, with a playful glint in his eye. Angelo didn't seem to care.

"I know. Tell me more," he demanded. Logan rolled his eyes.

"You like having your ego stroked, don't you?"

"Sometimes. But I'd have done that even if I didn't have an audience."

"Sure you would have, giggles."

"Don't call me giggles, Logan."

"I'll call you whatever I want. You get to call me leprechaun."

"Leprechaun fits you!"

"And giggles fits you! See?" Logan poked and prodded at Angelo's trim stomach, making a stream of giggles pour out of his mouth.

"Hey! Don't you dahahahahahare!" Angelo laughed, a cute wobbly smile on his face. "Get off mehehehehehehehe!"

"Nope." Logan tauntingly let a finger trace his abs. "I would be torturing you right now, Angelo, but I have to get you home first."

"What a relief." The rest of the journey was without incident, save for the taunting feeling of a hand grabbing his ass. Oh, Logan had plans for him, all right.

* * *

"And we're home alone!" Logan announced to the air, once Angelo had let them both in. "No cars outside the house, so your parents are still at work. If that's the case, where's your sister?"

"Sleepover at a friend's place," Angelo clarified. "So it's just us." That was all Logan needed to drag Angelo to the sofa, hands poking and prodding at his waist and hips. That broken leg would be the ultimate boon to Logan, who straddled him and started at the top, with Angelo's armpits. The screams of hysterical laughter were loud, sweet and . . . incredibly addictive. Logan simply craved more of that laughter, so he had to get more out of the giggly teenage prodigy. To make things easier for him, Logan wrestled Angelo out of his hoodie so it wasn't in his way. Angelo's thrashing arms knocked over his crutches, which leaned on the sofa and clattered to the floor, sounding out his defeat. "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! LOHOHOHOHOHOHOGAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAN! NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"Wow, you have it bad. Really, really bad," Logan gloated. "You have no idea how lucky I feel to have such a sweet, ticklish boyfriend. It makes teasing you way easier."

"YAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!" Angelo howled. "LAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! CAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"And there goes your ability to use even slightly coherent words," Logan commented. "And this is just your armpits. I wonder if you have any more sweet spots." Angelo was already shaking his head.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Angelo screamed, as ten fingers poked and prodded at his tummy. He felt like he was losing his mind . . . but then it got worse.

Logan blew a raspberry on his stomach.

"PFFFFT!"

The screams of laughter woke up the deaf old lady at the end of the road.

"BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Oh, this was intense. Logan never went this rough or went this long.

"Oh, poor guy. If I keep going, you'll wet yourself or pass out. Let's switch to something you do like," Logan purred, snuggling Angelo. Angelo, nearly exhausted, accepted this affection. After a few moments, Angelo finally said something.

"I think I prefer this to being tickled senseless," he murmured. Logan chuckled.

"I think I know what to do to make this better," he suggested.

"Don't lay a damn finger on me, Dobson. My ribs are still sore."

"I will do nothing of the sort." That was when Angelo felt something tug at his belt, and he squeaked. "What was that for?"

"Just checking that you weren't asleep." Logan retracted his hand and allowed them to wander before resting them quite firmly on his ass. "Want me to move them?"

"No . . . I like this," Angelo replied, sleepily, as Logan began giving him love bites. His eyes rolled back into his head and he purred. "More, please! Logan, this feels amazing!"

"Good to know, sweetie. Do you like it when this happens?" Logan asked, hopefully, as the love bites became stronger.

"Yeah . . . " He snuggled closer to him, not saying a word as one hand caressed his inner thigh.

"Good."

* * *

They stayed like that for hours, making out and letting their hands wander over each other's bodies.

"Thanks for staying," Angelo muttered.

"What sort of a boyfriend would I be if you went home alone?" Logan smiled. "You are so silly sometimes." He poked Angelo's abused stomach, and the poor boy whimpered.

"Logan, no more! I think I have a stitch from laughing too hard!" Angelo pleaded, as he pushed himself upwards.

"Fine," the smaller boy huffed. "Why are you sitting up?"

"Because my parents will be here any minute," Angelo muttered.

"Dammit!" Logan huffed, straightening up and turning off the TV. Angelo turned it back on and pretended he was watching some science program. Logan was about to see if he could get his tired boyfriend some cookies when Angelo's parents came in.

"Oh, Logan, so nice to see you," Roselle cooed, hugging Logan hard. "We didn't think we would spend so much time at work."

"Thank you for looking after Angelo," Bonaventura thanked.

"Oh, it's no trouble," Logan sighed. "He's just so sweet." Angelo, sitting in the living room, blushed and pretended to be asleep.

"He must have been so tired after walking home from school," his mother gushed. "I'm sure he had a long day." Just then, Logan's phone rang.

"Oh, my mother must be worried about me," Logan hurriedly babbled. "Goodbye, Mr and Mrs Riva! Sorry I couldn't stay longer!"

" _Addio_ (1), Logan," Bonaventura greeted, as Logan left. Once the door shut and his wife had gone to bed, he went to check on his son. "Angelo, I know you're awake. You can fool your mother, but not me. Lying still on the sofa with your eyes closed won't make me think you are asleep." Angelo sighed and opened his eyes.

"It worked at the hospital, though," Angelo retorted. Bonaventura turned pale. He didn't know what Angelo had heard, but he didn't have the time to ask.

"Go to sleep, Angelo. And for real this time," Bonaventura ordered, as he also went upstairs. He could really use a good night's sleep.

* * *

Translations

1: Goodbye. Italian.


	32. Family, free dessert and a brat

_Friday, June 13th_

* * *

Today was not going to be a good day for Rosario Riva. Throughout yesterday, he had endured taunt after taunt from his classmates about the damned video he was in. It wasn't supposed to be this bad, even at its worst. And it was definitely Angelo's fault. Who else could have done this to him, after all? Only Angelo had the connections for something like this. But he had other things to focus on right now. Like how his sisters were openly laughing at him in full view of other people, who also thought it was pretty funny. "Hey, Rosario! Which is better: a PlayStation or the latest iPhone?" Carmen giggled.

"You know what, he should just get both! His birthday is in three months and he needs a present," Gisella replied. The girls burst out laughing. Rosario wanted to punch them so badly, but he couldn't. They were girls, and he was in enough trouble as it was. His hands were essentially tied.

"Leave me alone. I need to talk to Angelo," Rosario huffed. "He has some explaining to do about that stupid video. It's so embarrassing! I saw all those comments and they all say I suck and they're sorry for Angelo because he's related to me and all that shit! Why can't they be sorry for me?"

"Rosario, listen to yourself. Angelo was literally kidnapped and had to save himself with nothing but his own wits. He got traumatic memories and a broken leg after that happened to him. The worst thing you've ever been through is some stupid video that was entirely your own fault in the first place," Gisella groaned.

"However, if you really think that people should be sorry for you, why don't you go back on TV and tell those nice reporters all about it?" Carmen joked, and they both burst out laughing.

"This is just a minor fall-out, you know. A small family feud. He'll be happy to help me by now," Rosario lied.

"Please. You're not little kids any more. You can't tell Angelo to do stuff for you by scaring him and telling him that if he doesn't, your dad will tell his dad and his dad will punish him. Let's face it: you killed the goose with the golden eggs," Gisella stated.

"N-no I haven't! You'll see! That nerd hasn't changed a bit!" Rosario snapped. He grabbed his phone, scrolled through the contacts and called his cousin.

"What do you want?" Angelo blearily asked. He'd just been woken up far earlier than he had wanted to (a pipe in the school's plumbing system had burst, so the students got a surprise day off school) and by someone he didn't particularly care for, no less. This had better be good.

"Angelo, my dad told me to tell you that you need to get that video taken down," Rosario told the genius.

Angelo didn't believe him. "He wants me to get the video taken down?"

"Yes!" Rosario thought he'd won, so he added in another thing for Angelo to do. "And to say that the news company is ran by a bunch of morons and tell everyone that they're fake news!"

"You know something, Rosario? This is great and all, but I'd like to hear it from your dad directly instead of all this 'my dad told me to tell you' crap. So I'll have to hang up on you to ask your dad if he really said this," Angelo explained. Rosario freaked out. His plan was falling apart.

"No! Angelo, do not hang up, do not hang up! You cannot call my dad!" Rosario shrieked.

"Why not?"

"Because . . . my dad is really busy right now. He'll get in trouble if he takes personal calls at work because he has so much to do."

"He wasn't too busy to tell you to tell me, though. And if that's really the case, then I'll call him when he gets out of work."

"You can't do that. He's always really tired after work." It wasn't hard to hear the desperation in Rosario's voice. If Angelo called his father, then he was done for. He was already facing a year with no appliances, this would probably make it two.

"How about Sunday? Sunday's his day off, right?"

"He promised my sisters that he'd take them clothes shopping all day this Sunday." This was a blatant lie, and they all knew it. Rosario's dad, Angelo's Uncle Valerio, made it a point to tell every guy he knew that the only person to ever go clothes shopping with his daughters was his wife. He said it was so he could remain a normal man, and not the modern 'anti-man', that he deemed to be too feminine, too nice and too sensitive to be considered to be real men in this day and age.

"You're lying to me, aren't you, Rosario?"

"No!" Rosario denied.

"Then why can't I talk to your father about this? I mean, if you're telling the truth, then he'll agree with you. But you're not, are you?"

"Come on, Angelo, we're family! You have to believe me!" Rosario was a hair away from hyperventilation. He was about to cry, he really was. His plan was failing, and he knew it.

"I haven't believed you for a long time." There was a click as Angelo hung up.

"Dammit! He hung up on me!" Rosario screamed, throwing a tantrum. " Stupid, stupid Angelo! I hate him! I hate him!" He began pounding on the door of his locker with such ferocity, the door was bent inwards by his fist, broken beyond repair. Eventually, the initial anger gave way to self-pity and sorrow, and he began to wail like a baby. "All I asked for was a PlayStation and the latest iPhone!" But as he complained, his brain thought up new things to add to the list. "And new headphones! And a smart watch! And Air Max shoes, the newest ones! Is that too much to ask?!"

"Wow, what a brat," a disgusted onlooker muttered. "Crying because his rich cousin wouldn't let him have the nice toys. What a baby!"

"I knew this would happen," Gisella groaned. "It always goes the same way. Rosario asks for something from someone, they don't give it to him, and then he throws a tantrum and breaks his stuff." Then she glanced over at her sister, and did a double-take. "Carmen, stop eating popcorn! Where did you even get popcorn from?"

"I figured this would happen, so I bought a bag so I had something to eat while watching this," Carmen replied, as she continued to eat popcorn like nobody's business.

"Dear God, give me strength," Gisella groaned. A teacher heard the tantrum and strode over to the screaming obese boy.

"Rosario Riva! Have you gone mad? Stop that infernal noise this instant!" she snapped.

"You don't understand! My cousin's being so mean to me!" Rosario wailed. "He won't do what my dad and I told him to do!"

"That's no excuse! Come with me so I can give you a well-earned detention!" the woman snapped.

"What for?" the tubby teenager whined.

The teacher simply pointed to the bent-in door of Rosario's locker. "Destruction of school property."

"Dammit," Rosario muttered.

* * *

Meanwhile, at the Blackwater Institution for Young Offenders, Maxwell was still clinging to the 'woe-is-me' mentality. Lunches were served to his cell and he couldn't mingle with the other inmates or go back to the break room. He still blamed all of this on his ex-classmate, Angelo Riva. If he had just gone with him instead of that nobody Logan, he wouldn't be in prison for solicitation of kidnapping and grievous bodily harm. And after he chose Logan instead of someone better like himself, he then turned the whole class against him. With that logic, he deserved that photo of him and Logan kissing. Thoughts like these kept Maxwell company at a time when nobody else could, as he thought about how far he'd fallen. Although he hated Angelo with a passion, he still wanted to get out of prison and be found not guilty so he could see his victim (or at least, that was what everyone seemed to call Angelo in his case) one more time and laugh in his face. That would feel good.

"Phone call for you, Maxwell," a prison guard told him. Maxwell got up and allowed himself to be escorted to the prison phone booths.

"Hello?" Maxwell tentatively greeted.

"Maxwell, good to hear from you," Jeremiah greeted, trying to sound positive. "How are you?"

"I'm in prison. How do you think?" Maxwell snarled. Jeremiah was initially rattled, but he tried to pretend that it was fine. He'd dealt with worse attitudes than this with his previous clients.

"Well, Maxwell, I've found a legal defence for you to use. But I don't think you'll like it." Jeremiah was secretly terrified of pitching this idea to his client. He'd had this talk before with other clients and it hadn't worked. "You need to take an independent psychiatric evaluation so the insanity defence can be used in your case." This went about as well as Jeremiah thought it would go.

"No! I'm not doing it! You're not going to tell the court that I'm a psycho! I'm not a psycho!" Maxwell roared down the phone. Jeremiah was terrified of the boy on the other end of the phone, who had simply flown into a rage. "If you want to help me, then find me a proper defence! Not this psycho shit!"

"Of course, Maxwell. It's just . . . you don't fit the criteria for any other defences," Jeremiah whimpered.

"Then make something up! You're a lawyer; you do this all the fucking time!" Maxwell snapped. "Just tell them that they made me do it! I'm fifteen, they'll eat that up!"

"Maxwell, fabricating evidence could result in me losing my licence to practice law and you being found guilty," the lawyer explained. "And it won't help your case."

"Fine! Just let me know when you have something useful," Maxwell huffed, slamming the phone down. He didn't even need an escort to his cell, storming back while the prison warden just kept an eye on him. _My life sucks,_ Maxwell thought to himself, as he tried to go to sleep. Sleep was his only release from this hell of a life.

* * *

Over at the Norwood-Sykes mansion, Sean and Candi could be overheard arguing about finances by the maids. It turned out paying for the legal services of Jeremiah Quentin Coburn was rather expensive, even for a family like theirs. Candi wanted to take money out of the business to pay for their son's legal fees, but Sean disagreed. They would need that money to move them and their business somewhere else after the trial.

"Please, Sean, just consider it! He's our son!" Candi wailed.

"If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times! We need that money to make a fresh start somewhere else once this is all over!" Sean snapped.

"Without our son?" Candi wailed.

"Of course we'll take him, you stupid woman!" Sean huffed. "The whole family will be going to get away from this stupid town and these stupid reporters! Move the business somewhere else, change our names-"

"But we have enough profits from the business to be able to use money from there to pay the lawyer guy!"

"Not going to happen!" Sean told her. "Taking that much money will lose us the business, our biggest income generator! Have you gone crazy?"

"I just want my son!" Candi wailed, running away to watch TV and receive a much-needed massage. Sean huffed and later spent the night in a guest bedroom. His wife obviously wasn't going to listen to reason, or to him.

* * *

Inside the Dobson household, Logan and Angelo were studying. There was a test coming up on Islam and they were going to need to prepare. Well, Logan was going to need to prepare. Angelo was the only one who took notes during that lesson, so he was going to be fine. "How many times a year does Eid happen?" Angelo asked.

"Um, three times?" Logan asked.

"Twice," Angelo corrected. Logan groaned.

"I am so gonna fail," the redhead complained. "I don't remember being taught any of this stuff!"

"You just need the right motivation," Angelo sighed. "Go over my notes until I get back. I have an idea. What's your favourite sweet snack?"

"Chocolate buttons," Logan told him. "Wait, what are you-" And with that, Angelo was gone. Angelo went to the first off licence he could find and found the biggest bag of chocolate buttons they had.

"That'll be a pound, please," the shopkeeper told him. He gave him a £5 note and got two £2 coins back. The genius inventor got back to find a worried Logan.

"Angelo? Why were you gone for so long?" Logan babbled, terribly worried.

"I was getting a study tool for you," Angelo explained, holding up the chocolate buttons.

"How is this going to help?" Logan asked.

"It gives you an incentive to get the answers right," Angelo explained. "Every time you get it right, I let you have one of these. Every time you get it wrong, I eat it in front of you."

"You'd better be joking," Logan huffed.

"Fine, I'll take them back. I still have the receipt and I haven't opened it yet. Your move," Angelo offered.

"Never mind! You should keep it!" Logan snapped. Angelo chuckled and picked up the revision flashcards.

"I thought you'd say that," Angelo chuckled. "How many pillars are there in Islam?"

"Five."

"Correct." Angelo handed Logan a chocolate button, which he allowed to melt in his mouth, the taste of chocolate evenly distributing itself across his tongue. "How many times does a Muslim need to go to Hajj in their lifetime?"

"Once."

"Correct. Name a reason for a Muslim not to pray."

"Sickness!"

"Correct. What is the name of the place good Muslims go?"

"Jannah."

"Correct. What is the name of the place bad Muslims and non-believers go?"

"Jahannam. Can we have a break now?"

"Fine." The couple took a break, and Angelo let Logan eat more of the chocolate buttons that he loved so much. "You've been doing very well now. I guess using the chocolate as an incentive must be working after all!" Logan snickered. "What's so funny?"

"It's not because of the chocolates. It's because you're sitting in front of a mirror and I can see all the answers," Logan giggled. Angelo glared, but he couldn't stay mad at him.

"Sneaky little trickster," Angelo huffed. "Cheating with his revision while his boyfriend just wants to help him not fail."

"Aww, are you being all pouty over me messing with you? I know just what you need," Logan taunted, before pouncing. But Angelo was ready for him this time, not restrained by a hospital bed or a lack of crutches. He caught Logan and proceeded to dish out sweet revenge for the torture he had to go through for far too long. "GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! ANGELO!"

"Yes, Logan?" Angelo asked, his voice sickly sweet, as if he had no idea what was going on or what his beloved leprechaun boyfriend was going through.

"YOHOHOHOHOHOU'RE A PRIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHICK!" Logan screamed. "STOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOP!"

"What a nice way for you to talk about your boyfriend," Angelo sarcastically remarked. "Shouldn't you do the right thing and apologize for such a rude remark?"

"NOPE! HE'S A DIHIHIHIHIHICK!" Logan snapped. Angelo gasped theatrically.

"How could you be so cruel?" he gasped, digging his fingers deeper into Logan's ribs. During the hysterical laughter, Logan let out an adorable little snort. "Aww, that's adorable! I want you to do it again!" Logan spent the next half-hour letting out adorable giggle-snorts, teased out of his mouth by a rather mischievous Angelo. "If I'd known you'd react like this, I'd tickle you forever," Angelo whispered, as Logan thrashed.

"ANGELOHOHOHOHOHOHO!" Logan squealed. He was gasping for air, and the loud noise made his mother investigate.

"Angelo? Logan? What's going on?" Martha asked, finding Angelo tickling her son, who was squealing and giggling hysterically. "Oh, Logan, you look adorable!" Angelo had to improvise on the spot.

"He may look cute, but it won't stop him from cheating on his revision," Angelo admitted. "This is payback for that."

"Yeah, he earned that," Martha sighed. "Well, I guess I'll leave you to it." She left the room, leaving the two to wonder about what happened.

"Ha! My mother saw you doing it! Now you have to stop tickling me!" Logan grinned. Angelo was staring at his neck. He knew just what he had to do to make his revenge complete.

"She never said I had to do that, but it's OK. I have another idea," Angelo smiled, and that was when the hickeys started. Logan squeaked and started purring. Damn, he remembered the first time he got hickeys from Angelo, and it felt amazing. He couldn't resist getting closer.

"Angelo, more! Please, more! This is good!" His voice became more high-pitched and needy with every word, and Angelo knew that he had Logan right where he wanted him.

"You want this to go on for longer?" Angelo whispered. Logan nodded frantically.

"Yes, please," Logan cooed. That was Angelo's cue to go harder.

"Good," Angelo grinned, as he went rougher and stronger, his hands on Logan's waist, one of them drifting downwards. Logan cooed and snuggled, purring like a tractor and letting his own hands toy with Angelo's belt. But being the little spoon sapped a lot of energy out of him, and Angelo eventually laid Logan down on the sofa so he could rest. Soon, the resting became sleeping, and Angelo smiled as Logan fell asleep next to him. He checked the time. 3:10. It was about time that he left. Mirella couldn't leave school on her own. After writing Logan a note explaining why he was gone for when he woke up, he went to see Logan's mother. She was watching TV in the living room when he came in. "Um, Ms Dobson? I need to go."

"Of course, Angelo. Bye." Ms Dobson waved Angelo goodbye with a small, freckled hand. It struck Angelo just how similar Logan was to his mother. Same complexion, similar height, similar build . . . and similar eyes. Both Logan and his mother had striking blue eyes.

"Bye," Angelo replied, heading out of the door, closing it behind him while leaning against the door. He hobbled over to the only primary school in Willowdale to collect his sister. She was waiting for him next to her surprisingly small teacher when she saw her brother coming. But her parents were also there behind Angelo, which was odd for a Friday. But she shook it off and went to her parents.

" _Mamma_ (1)! _Papa_ (2)! Angelo!" she squealed. All three were confused to hear her say that, but it made sense when they looked around.

"What are you doing here?" Angelo asked. "Normally, it's me who takes Mirella home."

"We thought that you might like a ride home from school afterwards," Roselle replied.

"Also, I wanna see this place where they gave you free de-" He was elbowed in the ribs by their mother. "OW!" Angelo fought back a snicker. Mirella openly laughed at her parents.

" _Mamma_ made _Papa_ stop talking!" Mirella giggled.

"I know. Mamma is a genius!" Angelo replied.

"That's right, you two," Roselle replied, grinning up at her husband. " _Mamma_ is the clever one, and don't you ever forget it."

"And what are I supposed to be?" Bonaventura asked.

"You're the guy that taught me and Santo how to forge my mother's signature on PE notes so we didn't have to participate if we didn't want to," Angelo replied.

"What?!" Roselle blurted out.

"Thanks, kid," Bonaventura huffed.

"And he told me the Wi-Fi lady turns the Wi-Fi off after six o'clock and turns it back on again in the morning!" Mirella replied. Angelo snickered.

"And I'm dead," Bonaventura grumbled. "Why did I ever have children?"

"Beats me," Angelo replied.

"That's it!" Bonaventura huffed, placing Angelo into a headlock. Angelo coughed and choked, slowly turning blue. Roselle was tasked with separating them.

"You two, enough!" Roselle huffed. The two separated. Bonaventura started coughing nervously. Angelo gasped for air like a fish out of water. "Honestly, you two need to grow up! You can't just put each other into headlocks in public!"

"Watch us," Angelo grinned.

"More like watch me," Bonaventura grinned. Angelo glared at him, but made no further comments. "Good boy. Staying nice and quiet for Papa." Angelo pouted and turned away. Roselle used this to make a point to her only daughter.

"Mirella, look at them. This is why women say that men never grow up," Roselle replied.

"Oh," Mirella replied, staring at her dad and brother. "Can we go to the café place now?"

"Yes," Roselle told her, glaring at the boys. They looked at each other and smiled nervously before going with her. They drove to the cosy little café and sat down to order. They couldn't see the manager, but they were greeted by a young man, not much older than Santo. He seemed very enthusiastic, with curly blonde hair that seemed to go in every direction except straight down.

"Hello! My name is Kingston. What would you - oh, God." He stopped the moment he saw Angelo, who just looked at him and smiled. "It's him. It's him! He's here!" He ran off to some back room, and the Riva family just stared at each other in confusion.

"What the flip?" Angelo asked. (He had to keep it clean, after all; there was a small child present.)

"Angelo, what's going on?" Mirella asked. "He just ran away."

"Just stay calm, you three," Roselle ordered. "Someone will be back soon." Kingston eventually returned, but he seemed to be constantly on his toes.

"Sorry about that. Hello, my name is Kingston. What would you like?" Kingston asked, smiling nervously. "I'm just so sorry. I didn't think you would be here, and I panicked."

"Didn't think who would be here?" Angelo asked.

"Him! I-I mean you! I mean - I'm sorry," he sighed.

"No, no, no, it's OK. Now, could you move a little?" Angelo asked. "I can't quite see the menu board. You're standing in front of it."

"I'll see if I get you a laminated copy of the menu," Kingston stammered, rushing off again. Now all four were confused.

"He must have seen you on the news," Bonaventura asked. "That's how he recognized you. Speaking of which, how has school been? Is anyone picking on you? Because you know that if anyone is picking on you, I can report it to the principal."

"They're not picking on me. They all think it's really cool and signed my cast when I came back! Kids from my school even came to the hospital to see me!" Angelo countered. "And you should have seen them when Maxwell was arrested! People were booing until they took him away!"

"Someone got taken away in a police car?" Mirella asked.

"No, sweetie, they took him away in an ice cream van," Angelo replied. Roselle smacked Angelo around the head. "Ow!"

"Angelo, what have I told you about being sarcastic around Mirella?" she chided.

"Sorry," Angelo muttered.

"Better," their mother sighed.

"Here's the laminated copy of the menu for you," Kingston replied, placing a laminated copy of the menu in front of Angelo. "Let me know when you want to order." He then rushed up to the till/kitchen area and started cleaning cups and preparing saucers, trying not to look at Angelo or his family.

"Who's Maxwell?" Mirella asked. "Angelo, who's Maxwell?"

"You don't want to know," Angelo replied. "He's . . . not very nice." Mirella forgot about him and instead tried to look at the menu.

"I want the red velvet muffin like last time," Mirella decided.

"The strawberry milkshake sounds nice," Bonaventura admitted.

"I'm having the apple pie," Roselle replied.

"Chocolate milkshake," Angelo stated.

"I'll do it," Bonaventura replied, going up to the till, where he found a very jittery Kingston. "Hello, I'd like to place our orders."

"You would?! I mean, of course you would, this is a café, how silly of me," Kingston replied. "What would you like?"

"Red velvet muffin for my daughter, strawberry milkshake for me, chocolate milkshake for my son and an apple pie for my wife," Bonaventura relayed. Kingston got right on it, making the milkshakes from scratch in the blenders and taking the slice of apple pie and the red velvet muffin out from the cupboard. Angelo watched in fascination.

 _So this is how milkshakes are made,_ Angelo thought. He prepared a £5 note to slip inside Kingston's pocket when he wasn't looking, as a thank you. He seemed nice. Their dad went to get everyone's food and tried to pay for it, but Kingston refused. "It's been paid for, sir."

"W-what?!" the man stammered. Angelo was right after all!

"It's been paid for. Store policy," Kingston replied, with a twinkle in his eye. "You can keep your money." Bonaventura smiled gratefully, and Kingston took the food back to their table. Angelo almost drooled at the sight of his chocolate milkshake. "Here you go, ladies and gentlemen," Kingston told the family, placing them down in front of them and sorting out whose dessert belonged to who. While he was doing that and everyone else was distracted with the food, Angelo slipped the £5 note inside his jeans pocket while he was leaning over the table to hand over their desserts. "I hope you enjoy your food."

"Thank you," Angelo replied, grinning as he stared up at Kingston. The boy had no idea what had happened to him. "You've been great." Kingston felt his heart flutter. Angelo, the hero, had complimented him. He looked away with a rising blush on his face as he rushed away to a back room.

"This place makes amazing pie," Roselle said. "How long have they been letting you have free food?"

"Since last Friday," Angelo replied. "I tried to pay and the next thing I know, I'm told that it's all been paid for. I tried to pay, but the manager lady said I didn't need to tip her."

"More people know about what you did than I thought," Bonaventura replied. "Before, it was just in newspapers, and nobody reads those any more. But it seems to be everywhere now."

"Oh, no," Angelo groaned. "I don't like this." The idea made him want to curl up and cry, but he couldn't. People would see and fuss over him. Mirella would be worried about him, and she didn't need that. He would save the panicking for when he got home. Mirella seemed tired, so they all piled into the (rental) car and went home. Angelo's sudden low mood was noticed by his father, who suddenly decided that he would have to do something about it. As his wife got his daughter ready for bed, he went to go see Angelo. His son was in the living room, lying down on his back across the whole sofa.

"Angelo, are you OK? I didn't know that you would be so worried about it," Bonaventura replied. "You wanna talk?" Angelo nodded.

"You and Uncle Valerio have been arguing a lot," Angelo pointed out. "I heard you in the hospital. Why?" Bonaventura stiffened.

"You weren't supposed to hear that," the father of three sighed. "But there's no point hiding it, since you heard. He was late getting to the hospital and didn't seem to care about it. And he only visited twice, despite promising that he would be there every day. And after that business with the news crew and the way he talked to you . . ." He trailed off, leaving a clear indication of how he felt.

"And Rosario's been calling and texting me a lot since the news conference thing," Angelo disclosed. "And Uncle Valerio."

"Show me those texts," Bonaventura replied. Angelo handed over his phone, and Rosario's text messages to Angelo were revealed to the worried father, who soon became the livid father. The first texts he saw between Angelo and Rosario went as follows:

Rosario: _Angelo, you have to get that video taken down._

Angelo: _I can't. Only the people that posted the video can have it taken down again. My hands are tied._

R: _Then talk to them! They won't listen to me!_

A: _I don't know how or where to contact them._

R: _Then you're dead to me! I'm telling my dad about you for not protecting your family!_

A: _Tell him._

The first texts he saw between his own brother and his son made him want to punch someone. Those texts went as follows:

Uncle Valerio: _Angelo, you need to make sure that Rosario isn't humiliated over this. He is taking this very hard._

Angelo: _One thing I don't understand is why you were even in Willowdale at the time. You live in London._

UV: _Rosario wanted to see you. This alone should be ample reason for you to get rid of it._

A: _I came home from school to find Rosario in front of my house, but the fact that he had the foresight to pick my house means I should be grateful?_

UV: _Stop wasting my time and get rid of the video._

A: _I can't take down a video I never posted. You should ask the news company to do that. I'm sorry I couldn't help you more._

UV: _Rosario is family to you. Since you are more popular, you should convince people that he's a good person who did a dumb thing._

A: _There is nothing I can do about this because I didn't post it and I don't know how to contact the people who did._

UV: _You're a traitor. I'll have to tell your father how disgusting you are being so he can give you the beating you deserve._

Bonaventura read through these texts and just hugged his son as hard as he could. "It's not true," he repeated. "You did your best. Don't listen to them."

"Could you make them stop?" Angelo asked. "They've been calling and texting nonstop since . . . _it_ happened. And when I can't give them what they want, it gets nasty."

"I've got the perfect solution to this," Bonaventura replied, as he blocked their numbers from his son's phone and saved screenshots of all the texts, for use in an argument sometime in the future. "Now that's solved, go to bed. And I mean your actual bed, not the couch."

"Yeah, you're right. I wouldn't want to share a room with you anyway." That earned him a pair of hands to his stomach, and as the injured teenager squealed and begged for mercy, he found himself being dragged closer. Then his leg ended up in his father's lap, and he was forced to hold back his laughter as his father traced the signatures on his cast. It was adorable how his teenage son still squirmed like a child when one of his sweet spots was touched.

"How sweet, the other kids at school wrote on your cast. I want to count how many signatures there are," Bonaventura suggested, as he pretended to count how many people drew on his son's cast. This was torture for the poor inventor. He was essentially forced to lie there and pretend that nothing was bothering him as his father knowingly and deliberately tickled the snot out of him. He would just have to wait it out until his father had had his fun with his ticklish body. The room began to spin, and the next thing he knew, he was being carried upstairs by his dad, bridal style.

"What are you doing? I don't need to be carried," Angelo insisted. "I'm not little any more."

"Shush, you'll wake Mirella," Bonaventura replied. Angelo shut up. "Besides, you're too tired to walk. You'll probably fall asleep in about ten seconds." Angelo huffed as he was placed in bed, but he wasn't completely ungrateful.

"Thanks." It was quiet, but he caught it.

"You're welcome." Bonaventura slipped out of his son's bedroom. "Sweet dreams." And, as he left the room, he was proven right. Angelo fell asleep in about ten seconds.

* * *

Meanwhile, Kingston was getting changed and going to bed. He had placed his jeans on the door to be folded up and placed in a cupboard, when a £5 note fell out of them onto the floor. He knew that it hadn't been there the last time he checked, so someone had taken the money and put it in there themselves as a tip. And he knew who. "Angelo," he muttered to himself. "Nice kid."

* * *

Translations

1: Mom/Mum. Italian.

2: Daddy/Dad. Italian.


	33. Social media

_Saturday, June 14th_

* * *

Angelo woke up in his room, feeling like a sweaty, disgusting mess. It was a hot summer night and he hadn't opened a window to allow for air ventilation. Then it hit him: how was he supposed to shower like this? He was on crutches now. He was terrified, confused and ashamed. The prodigy took his crutches and limped over to the bathroom to wash his face. It was at that point that Angelo caught sight of a shower chair. He smiled happily at the sight of it. He could take showers this way. He would still need help getting in and out of the bath, though. That was the part that worried him.

"Angelo, are you OK?" Bonaventura asked. "You want help with showering?" Angelo looked away and turned crimson. He hated that he needed help with something so simple, but knew that he had no choice.

"Yes," he admitted. "Let's get this over with. This is embarrassing." Bonaventura nodded and got to work, taking his son's clothes off and guiding him into the shower. The physics professor tried to make it quick, washing him as fast as he could and asking permission to wash private parts of him, which Angelo begrudgingly allowed. He was taken out of the shower and to his room, so he could change.

"Need any help?" Angelo's father asked.

"I can do this myself," Angelo insisted. "Please, Dad. Let me." Bonaventura nodded, but hovered outside his son's room. Angelo put on a pair of sweatpants as best he could and a yellow shirt. A single green sock was placed on his (uninjured) foot. Everything finally done, he hobbled out of his room to go downstairs, only to encounter another problem.

"Dad, can you help me?"

"Of course," he agreed. "Come on." Together, the men walked down the stairs, Angelo clinging to him with terror. He didn't want to fall and get hurt even more. The inventor sat down and started making himself breakfast. Just some toast. Something he could make while sitting down . . . mostly.

"Hey, Angelo," Mirella smiled, as she ate morning cereal in front of the TV. "Are you going to see your boyfriend today?"

"Mirella!" Angelo snapped, blushing. "Don't say things like that! And not in front of _Papa_ (1)!"

"What did you tell Mirella not to say in front of me?" Bonaventura asked, sticking his head in the door. "Mirella, what did you say?"

"I just asked him if he was going to see his boyfriend today," Mirella asked, as she shovelled another spoonful of cornflakes into her mouth. She had already changed into a cute pair of overalls with a purple butterfly shirt. Oh, if she wasn't so adorable and small, Angelo would have strangled her.

"The little lady has a point. Will you be going to him or will he be coming to you?" Angelo's curious father asked, grinning.

"We haven't made any plans," Angelo huffed. "It'll be a quiet day in." Then his phone dinged. Someone was texting him . . . for some reason. It was Logan. He smiled as he spread butter and jam onto his toast.

Logan: _Babe, have you seen Instagram lately? It's going wild!_

Angelo typed back.

Angelo: _I don't have any social media._

L: _I'll fix that for you soon. ;-)_

Angelo was confused. How would he change something like that? He had never had social media, first because he was too young, and then because it would betray his location to the New Wave of Intellect. Would he be allowed to do so now? "Dad," Angelo asked, "now that the New Wave of Intellect are in prison, could I have social media now?"

"Eh, I don't see why not," Bonaventura replied. "Just take everything with a pinch of salt, OK? I don't want you talking to creeps, not after everything."

"Dad, I know better. I'll be fine," Angelo replied. "I promise, I'll only talk to people that I know offline."

"Clever boy. I taught you well." Angelo's father took Pepsi and went for a walk, Mirella putting on her shoes behind him. "I'll see you in about two hours. Bye."

"Bye, Dad. Bye, Mirella. Bye, Pepsi," Angelo replied, as they left. Once the door clicked shut, Angelo knew that he was all alone. His mother seemed to already be gone. A note on the fridge said that she had an appointment to go to at 10:00. Then another ding came from his phone. It was Logan again.

L: _Are you at home?_

A: _Yes._

L: _Alone?_

A: _Yes._

L: _I'll be over in fifteen minutes._

Angelo's eyes grew wide. Fifteen minutes? No way could Logan get to his house that fast! He thought that Logan would take at least half an hour. That was how long it took for him to get there. So he sat there, waiting for Logan to come over, like he said. He was shocked. Just before he grabbed his phone so he could play games, there was a knock on the door.

"Angelo?" Logan called. The prodigy got up and went to get the door for his boyfriend, who scooped him up into the biggest, tightest hug of all time. "Sweetie!" Logan squealed.

"He-hello, babe," Angelo muttered, blushing as Logan's hand slipped downwards to his rear.

"Do you like what I'm doing, sweetie?" Logan taunted. "Aww, never mind. I came here to help you with this little problem. Why do you not have anything?"

"First I was too young, then I was in danger. It just never seemed like the right time," Angelo replied. "It sucked. Everyone else could have it, but not me."

"It's OK. I'll help you. Give me your phone." Logan held out his hand for Angelo's phone. Angelo handed it over, without a word. "Come on." Angelo found himself being steered to the sofa and roughly pushed down onto it. "How much storage does your phone have left?"

"I don't know. I thought it had been used up when I installed MAIA," Angelo replied. An angry bleep emanated from his watch.

"The application needed for my use only takes up 20MB," MAIA replied, seeming almost huffy. "If my calculations are correct, then you should be able to download the social media application of your choice, sir."

"Oh, Thanks, MAIA," Angelo replied, as he started downloading Instagram. "Wait, how do you make an account?" Logan sighed and chuckled.

"Come on, babe," he grinned. "Hand it over." Angelo handed the phone over. "Now, this is the hard part, making a username."

"How is that the hard part? That should be easy," Angelo replied.

"Yeah, but there's a catch. If the username you pick is the same as one that already exists, you have to pick a new one," Logan explained.

"Oh. Well, here goes nothing," Angelo replied, taking the phone and typing the username the_real_angelo_riva. It worked. "Hey, look. Now I just need a password. Hold on." He created a password for himself, writing it down on a post-it note before tucking it into his pocket. "What do I do with this?"

"Post a photo of yourself as your profile picture," Logan explained. "Give it here."

"It's fine. I can do it myself," Angelo replied, going through his camera reel before finally choosing a picture of him with his dog. He selected this as his profile photo. His bio was simple.

_**I'm Angelo Riva. My pronouns are he/him. I'm finally allowed to have social media. I'm just here for funny cartoons and videos, not politics and drama. I've had enough of drama.** _

Satisfied, he posted it. "It says I need to follow people now. Logan . . . do you have an Instagram account so I could follow you?" He didn't dare look his boyfriend in the eyes, he was just so embarrassed.

"Aww, of course, baby!" Logan cooed, snuggling him. "You don't need to be so shy about it! Here, I'll show you my account. It's mostly just some cartoons that I drew-"

"Cool! Let me see!" Angelo replied. "Please, babe?" He hit Logan with a big pair of sparkling green puppy eyes, and Logan melted.

"Here you go, babe," Logan sighed, pulling up his Instagram account. This was where he posted the drawings he spent hours on, that he refused to show anyone who knew him. Angelo gaped at his drawings. They were amazing, or at least, they were to him. How could Logan hide this?

"They're amazing! Why didn't you tell me about these?" Angelo seemed hurt. "You know practically everything about me, but I feel like I know nothing about you." Logan felt his heart sink. Angelo had a point.

"See for yourself," Logan replied, handing over his phone. "They're not very good." But Angelo went through the Instagram page and gaped at his follower count. His boyfriend had just over 2,000 followers. He was (sorta) famous! And he didn't seem to know!

"These are great! Does anyone else know about this? Like anyone at school?" Angelo asked.

"I don't want to be made fun of."

"They won't. They like you. They really do."

"Thanks. Now come on, I need to get you up to speed on everything to do with social media."

Logan went through Instagram filters, IGTV, hashtags and how to find someone. Angelo seemed to understand it all, although he was confused and upset when he realized that he could only search up names and not posts. And from there, the Instagram binge began.

"Logan! Logan, oh my god! Look, it's me!" Angelo replied, jabbing at the screen with his finger. Angelo had found a random Instagram post by an account named globalnews.

"Really? I've got to see this." Logan looked at his phone and his jaw dropped. The post was describing Angelo as a badass, with a still image of Angelo that had probably been taken by a reporter outside his house. It said:

_This is the face of a badass. This teenager secretly communicated with police to bring himself home safely. His name is Angelo Riva. Don't forget it._

"No way, they said I was cool!" Angelo's face was a picture of joy. Logan jumped on him and hugged him as hard as he could and shoving Angelo down onto the sofa, meaning Angelo was on the bottom on his back and Logan was on top. He felt fingers dig into his tummy and he held in his laughter. The redhead started cooing at the inventor.

"Poor baby, so squirmy because of little old me," Logan taunted. "Too ticklish, sweetie? You want me to stop so you don't feel like laughing?"

"L-Logan! Hahahahahahahaha!" Angelo squeaked, on the verge of hysteria. Logan stopped tickling his boyfriend and started kissing Angelo, hard. Angelo let out a quiet whimper and became limp, the only movement coming from him was when he kissed back, squirming slightly. "Ohh." His eyes rolled back into his head, meaning Logan could toy with him and his body as much as he wanted. The only noises he could hear were moans, motivating him to do more.

"That's it, Angelo. I knew you'd like this," Logan grinned, as he started to give the inventor hickeys, biting and sucking at Angelo's neck and grinning at his handiwork. "Want more of these? You seem eager." Angelo nodded.

"Fuck, yes," Angelo purred. "Oh, God, more."

"Don't ask God, ask me," Logan told him, going rougher and harder and smirking at Angelo's whimpers. "Good boy." He worked Angelo's shirt off of his body, taking off his own and cuddling the Italian teen. He toyed with the waistband of Angelo's sweatpants. "Your shirt's already off. Want these off, too?" Angelo looked away and blushed madly, eventually forced to look up by a slender hand attached to Logan's arm. "If you want, I could take everything off for you and we could keep having fun." Angelo shook his head.

"I'm not ready. Logan, please, no." Angelo looked terrified. Logan nodded, and continued to let his mouth and hands wander. Angelo kissed back hungrily, whimpering as Logan's hands gripped his ass and groin.

"Oh, you are such a good boy. I love you," Logan replied. "I know you don't want to go any further just yet, but I'm so happy you're willing to let me do this to you." He traced Angelo's V-line and he shivered. "You feel like a hot little toy when I get to play with you. You are mine, mine, mine. Outside, you are my injured boyfriend and I will help you with whatever you want. Inside, when nobody can see us, you are my toy. Your ass is mine." As hickeys landed all over Angelo, the prodigy's head began to spin and Angelo started to grope at the air, trying to hug Logan.

"You're the best," Angelo murmured. "I'm going to miss you." Logan shoved him away.

"What do you mean?" Logan asked.

"There's something I need to tell you. I won't be in the school by next year. You know how I was only here to blend in and keep out of trouble until further notice?" Logan nodded. "Well, I've already gone through university. I have master's degrees in mechanical engineering, programming, applied physics and chemical engineering. I've already done all my exams. There's no need for me to stay after the summer holidays."

Logan looked at Angelo with horror and despair. "So you're going? After all this, and we never see you again?"

"No. My sister goes to the primary school here, and that means my parents can't go. They've uprooted her far too much already. And if they can't go, neither can I. I'll still live in this town, I just can't go to this school. You can live with this, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I can live with that. I still get to see you this way." Logan started to calm down. "You worried me, babe. Don't ever do that again, please."

"OK," Angelo replied, smiling sleepily. "Could you keep snuggling me? It feels nice."

Logan grinned. "I'm sure you just loved feeling my hands all over you. You like being my plaything, huh?"

"Y-yes, a little," Angelo muttered, blushing. Logan snickered and went back to teasing his boyfriend, letting his hand run up and down his body. Angelo's squeals and whimpering were music to Logan's ears, although he could tell that he secretly liked it from the wobbly smile. "Kisses, please."

"Of course," Logan grinned, climbing on top of him and kissing Angelo senseless. "I know you don't want me to do anything more, but I'll still kiss you until you can't breathe. I'm sure you'd love it." Angelo's eyes were rolling back into his head. "What's wrong? Light headed? Or are you just really needy for me?"

"Logan, that feels so good." The room began to spin, and he relaxed. Logan would have to stop there. He couldn't lay a finger on Angelo while he was so vulnerable.

"Shh, it's OK. Let me help you." The inventor felt himself being moved like a doll as Logan stuffed him into his clothes. The last thing Angelo remembered was a soft kiss on the lips before his world went black. Quietly, Logan put on his shirt, snuck out of the house, heading home. _That cute boy had better get used to being teased,_ Logan thought.

* * *

When Angelo's parents and sister came back, they found a very odd sight. Angelo was asleep on the sofa, on his back, his shirt inside out. Mirella was taken away quickly, so she didn't see the hickeys on his neck. Bonaventura quickly thought of ways to tease his son about it later.

"He had fun," Bonaventura muttered.

"Shush, honey, you can't say that to him," Roselle replied.

"Even if it's true?" Bonaventura asked.

"I won't say it twice," she growled.

"Fine. I'll leave it alone," the father replied. Angelo limped towards him, trying to go over to his bedroom.

"Do we have any cookies left?" Angelo asked. "I'm a little hungry."

"You need to wait until lunch; you'll make yourself sick," Bonaventura replied. Sighing, Angelo turned away, letting his parents catch a glimpse of the hickeys on the back of his neck. Roselle almost gasped.

"Should we tell him that he has a lot of . . . marks on his neck?" Roselle asked her husband.

"No; that's what the mirror is for," he replied, grinning. One thought was going through his head.

_That's my boy._

* * *

Translations

1: Dad/Daddy. Italian.


	34. Cast removal

_Time skip: from Sunday, June 15th to Wednesday, July 10th_

* * *

Angelo woke up feeling incredibly happy. Today was the day when the cast was finally, inevitably taken off. He'd had the X-rays done already and they gave him the all-clear. He babbled about it to Logan, who was supportive, but would miss having such a cute, vulnerable boyfriend to tease. Being in control was something he didn't know he liked, and once Angelo started walking without crutches and with his arms now free, Logan would be quite easily overpowered. Sure, the leg would still need time to heal, but the disadvantage would be clear to see.

"My cast will be coming off!" he blurted out during morning break, utterly ecstatic.

"Oh, babe, that's great!" Logan cooed, supporting him like any good boyfriend. "You'll be able to walk properly and do things yourself soon."

"And I can walk you home instead of you walking me home," Angelo suggested.

"Oh no. Not on your life. _I_ am walking _you_ home, end of story," Logan insisted.

"Sweetie, I owe you for that! Now I've got to repay you!" Angelo pointed out. Logan felt like he had deflated. Angelo had no idea how being in a relationship worked, having never been in one before.

"Repaying you is only for large amounts of money. If I say I've got you, then I've got you," Logan explained. "Also, I like walking you home."

"But I wanna walk _you_ home, Logan."

"That's it. I now order you to stop being so sweet. You're giving me a cavity," Melissa ordered, her hands over her ears. Logan grinned, and began to stroke the insides of Angelo's thigh, making him blush an adorable shade of crimson.

"Don't worry about him; he's just really excited. The cast's coming off soon," Logan cooed. "Aww, baby boy, don't blush so much. It's just me. See?" He held his hands up to prove to Angelo that it was just him.

"I-I see," Angelo murmured. "It's happening after school today. I've never had a broken limb before. I'm scared."

"You'll be fine. The doctor will take good care of you." Logan petted his boyfriend, letting his fingers rove through Angelo's raven black hair.

"Thank you," Angelo smiled. Logan smiled and cuddled close to the injured boy, his hands wandering to his ribs and tummy. "Hey! Hahahahahahaha! Bahahahahahabe!" Angelo felt tickling fingers on his torso, and he squealed when Logan hit a sensitive spot on his ribcage.

"But baby boy, your laughing is so cute!" Logan teased. "I want to hear more!" He started poking and prodding more, and Angelo couldn't hold himself up any more. The robotics prodigy laughed hysterically as his body was toyed with, the redheaded cartoonist's nimble fingers caressing ticklish spots.

"Plehehehehehease, no more!" Angelo pleaded, squirming. "Why are you so mean?"

"Well, aren't you just precious?" Logan cooed, taunting the bigger boy. "Big guy too ticklish for a few little pokes on his tummy?" Angelo couldn't even talk any more; he was still giggling and trying to squirm away.

"Logan, I know you are good friends with Angelo, but could you keep your hands to yourself in my presence?" Miss Turrets asked, her manner of speaking ice cold and emotionless save for exasperation. Logan blushed madly, looking at Angelo bashfully. Angelo smirked.

"Wow, you hear that? She thinks we're 'good friends'. Well, I suppose we've become such good friends that we go to each other's houses to walk each other to school and leave hickeys all over each other's necks," Angelo whispered. Logan squeaked and looked at the floor, humiliated. His boyfriend didn't care who heard him. Dating Logan had made him more confident. He wasn't as worried about what people would say about the things he did in his life.

"You be glad that I can't hit you; you're going to suffer enough with the cast being taken off," Logan muttered. Angelo whimpered.

"R-really?"

"Well, remember that story Coach Hurley told you?"

"What sto-oh. Oh, no." The prodigy whimpered and curled up.

"Good luck," Logan hissed, grinning.

"Do I need to tell you again? Both of you, quiet!" Miss Turrets ordered. The boys stayed quiet for the rest of the register and another tedious English lesson. During break, Angelo sought comfort and advice from Logan.

"Is it really that bad?" Angelo asked. "Getting my cast cut off."

"I don't know how bad it could possibly be. I've never had a broken limb," Logan replied. "You'll be fine. It's all doctors and stuff. They're going to be very, very gentle with you."

"Once I get rid of these crutches, I'll walk you home," Angelo promised.

"And until then, you're going to be walked home by me," Logan replied. "And I'm going to love doing it, especially today." Angelo's face fell, and he suddenly couldn't look his boyfriend in the eye. "What? What did I say?"

"I'm not walking home today, Logan," Angelo muttered. "The appointment is at 3:00, so I'll have to leave school early. My parents will be outside waiting for me in the car."

"I'll walk you out," Logan offered.

"You will? Thank you!" Angelo just lit up. The redhead chuckled and petted his dorky boyfriend.

"Of course I will," Logan replied.

* * *

_Fast forward to 2:30 (and IT class)_

"Mr Daye, I need to go," Angelo excused.

"More things to invent, eh?" the teacher chuckled.

"It's about my cast, sir. I need to go," Angelo replied. Logan also rose to leave.

"And where are you going, Mr Dobson?" Mr Daye asked.

"Helping Angelo," Logan replied. He grabbed Angelo's bag and walked to the door, but not fast enough to escape what their teacher said next.

"How sweet! One friend helping another." The class snickered; they knew that Angelo and Logan weren't just friends. Angelo blushed, but Logan knew exactly what to do.

"Yeah, yeah, sure. Friends," Logan muttered. He wasn't exactly someone who enjoyed getting into drama, but he couldn't help it. "Hey, Angelo, turn around."

"Sure, wh-" He was cut off by Logan kissing him. He stiffened, but he closed his eyes and relaxed into it, kissing him back. The Italian was the one to end it, gently easing out of it before patting Logan's arm. "We have to go," he replied. Logan nodded and walked Angelo out of the classroom, while Mr Daye stood there in shock.

"Mr Daye won't look at us the same way again, you know," Logan told him.

"Whatever. He hasn't looked at me normally since he figured out that I was . . . well, me," Angelo replied. "Thanks, babe."

"For the kiss or the help to the car?" Logan teased.

"Yes," Angelo blurted out. Logan rolled his eyes and started squeezing and rubbing Angelo's butt.

"Good luck. Be brave," Logan cooed, with a sharp squeeze to his ass cheek and grinning as the boy squeaked. He kept his hands to himself when Angelo's parents could see them.

"Thank you," Angelo smiled. The robotics whiz was quickly taken away by his very grateful parents.

"Logan, thank you," Roselle replied. "Angelo, you better not mess this up," she hissed to her son.

"Mum!" Angelo hissed. Seeing Logan was still there, he smiled at his boyfriend. "Bye, Logan! I love you!"

"I love you too!" Logan replied, waving as he went back into the school. For the last five minutes of the lesson, Logan endured odd looks from the teacher. Melissa grinned at him, winking.

"Attaboy," she whispered, when the bell rang and there was a rush of students to the door. Logan wore a slight smile and had his head in the clouds all the way home. Once he was there, he rushed to his room, grabbed his notepad and pencil and started drawing. Angelo laughing as he was tickled witless by a cartoon version of him. Angelo sleeping. Angelo blushing as he looked at his hickeys in the mirror. Just Angelo, over and over.

"So cute," Logan muttered.

* * *

Meanwhile, Angelo was in the fracture clinic of the hospital, his father completing a health history questionnaire about his son while his mother took his sister home. "You know you'll be OK, right? They won't hurt you," he soothed. "They'll cut off that annoying cast with a special saw that won't be able to touch you."

"Thank you, _Papa_ (1)," Angelo told him, playing a game on his phone. A secretary came out of some room that Angelo couldn't see and called for him.

"Angelo Riva?" she beckoned. Angelo and his father got up and followed her into a room that looked like a doctor's office. There was a table for patients to sit or lie on, and a chair for the doctor. The room was clean and white, with a faint smell of bleach in the air. A nurse wearing scrubs entered the room, smiling as she put on a pair of blue rubber gloves.

"Hello, Angelo. My name is Alexis, and I will be removing your cast," she introduced. Angelo smiled, but weakly.

"Hi," Angelo greeted.

"Please sit on the table. Have you ever had a cast removed before?" Alexis asked. He shook his head. "If you get scared, just remember that you have me and your grandfather here. You can go to either of us for comfort."

"That's actually my dad," Angelo corrected, snickering. His father was mortified, turning redder by the second. Alexis looked away.

"Sorry. So sorry," she muttered. She left for a minute and came back holding a small electric saw. Angelo tried to scramble away, but his father held onto him.

"What. Is. That. For?" Angelo whispered.

"It's OK, Angelo, I promise. This saw will be used to cut your cast off," the nurse explained. "It won't hurt you, but it may tickle a little." Angelo nodded and sat back, but he still flinched as he heard the saw being turned on, buzzing loudly and getting closer. "Try not to move too much. It'll make the cast removal less problematic." He held still . . . right up until the saw touched his cast. Then the giggles started. Adorable giggles that spilled out of his mouth like a bubbly waterfall of laughter.

"It tickles!" Angelo squealed, trying to squirm off of the table. His father rubbed his shoulder, a sympathetic smile gracing his features to replace and hide the shit-eating grin he would've loved to have.

"Angelo, you heard the lady. Hold still," Bonaventura ordered, trying not to be an immature parent as his son squealed like an infant next to him.

"I cahahahahahan't! It tickles tohohohohohohoo much!" Angelo giggled. "Ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!"

"Well, that's not the reaction I was expecting," Alexis quipped, smiling. "I must say, this is one of the most extreme reactions I've ever had to a cast removal. At this rate, he may have to be restrained so I can continue."

"Angelo being restrained on doctor's orders. That I must see," the boy's father mused.

"Don't do that, please!" Angelo begged, as the saw got dangerously close to his foot.

"It's too ticklish, isn't it?" Bonaventura asked. Angelo nodded, letting out a screech of laughter as it hit his heel. "Aww, poor baby. Can't take a few little tickles?"

"Don't cahahahahahahahahahaha-hey!" That yelp came from the set of tickling fingers that now rested on his hip. The squirming began anew, and Alexis had had enough.

"I'm sorry, Angelo, I can't work like this. You'll need to be held still. Mr Riva, could you hold him still?" Alexis asked. Bonaventura nodded and scooped Angelo up into a tight bear hug. He poked and prodded his son's ribs, making the boy giggle.

"Please say you're not seriously doing this, Dad," Angelo begged.

"It's for your own good," his father replied, sympathetic. "You just can't hold still, can you?" Angelo whimpered and nodded, becoming very submissive.

"I'm sorry," Angelo muttered.

"I know," Bonaventura replied. "You'll be OK." Angelo nodded and relaxed just a little, or at least he did until he saw Alexis come back.

"Are you OK to continue?" Alexis asked. Angelo nodded.

"Yeah. I just want this over with," Angelo admitted.

"Good," Alexis replied, before going right back to torturing her patient. The screams of laughter almost deafened the two adults. Thank God it was soundproof.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO, PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE!"

"Angelo, this will be going on until the cast is off, whether you like it or not. Try to relax," Bonaventura replied. "Don't listen to him, miss."

"EASY FOR YOU TO SAHAHAHAHAHAHAY! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Angelo screamed. He was quickly silenced by a hand over his mouth. "MHMHMHMHMPH!"

"Good boy. Nice and quiet," Bonaventura teased. Angelo squirmed and giggled, but his mouth was covered by his father's hand. Eventually, tears of laughter leaked out of his eyes. He was exhausted and just wanted it all to be over. "OK, Angelo, how about I let you have pizza when we get home? Clearly you need it." The robotics prodigy nodded, weakened from laughing too hard.

"Almost done," Alexis cooed, hitting a particularly sensitive spot and hearing whimpers from her patient. He was too weak to laugh any more. "Angelo, I promise, this will be over soon." Tears of mirth rolled down his cheeks as his giggles were mostly contained by his father's hand over his mouth. Eventually, the end that had seemed mythical earlier finally came. Alexis finally cut the cast off the fatigued teenager, who was now too exhausted to do anything other than hug his father.

"Oh, you're adorable, you know," Bonaventura muttered. "It's done then? We can go?"

"Yes, basically," Alexis told them. "Tell me how your leg feels, Angelo."

"A little weak, but whatever," Angelo reported. "It'll pass eventually." Alexis didn't share the positive attitude of her patient.

"Weakness will require physical therapy and a boot until it goes away. I can recommend someone for you." Alexis held out a card to the father, who took it. "You will have to keep the crutches until then. Putting your full weight on your foot won't be good for your recovery."

"Aww!" Angelo whined. Bonaventura sighed and patted his shoulder.

"You'll be OK, kid. Come on," he cajoled, as he escorted his son to the car.

Once Angelo got home, he went to the bathroom and started washing his leg. It had been in a cast for weeks and stank. Angelo kept washing his leg over and over, trying to get rid of that disgusting smell. It seemed to be gone after he had finished, and after drying the limb with a towel and shaving hairs that had grown over that time. Then he flopped onto the bed and texted Logan.

A: _I have bad news._

L: _What is it, babe?_

A: _The doctor says that I'll need crutches for another few weeks._

L: _Oh no . . ._

A: _You're going to use this to keep walking me home, aren't you?_

L: _So you are a real genius._

A: _I'm not sure if I should be angry that you're willing to celebrate my injury, or be flattered that you want to walk me home so much._

L: _Multi-task for once._

A: _I hate you._

L: _No, you don't._

A: _No, I don't._

* * *

Translations

1: Daddy/Dad. Italian.


	35. Sentencing

_Time skip: from Wednesday, July 10th to Wednesday, July 17th_

* * *

The New Wave of Intellect saga continued to dominate the news.

"One by one, as if there was a plague sweeping through the rich and famous elite of the world, people are being arrested for having donated to the international anarchists in return for, apparently, getting a say and increased influence in how the world would be run once they got to work. And the question on everyone's lips: how hasn't this ended yet?" The cheery news reporter asked rhetorically from the inside of Logan's phone at lunch. Louise and Melissa watched over his shoulder, to their growing shock.

"Ha! I knew that one was shady as fuck!" Logan snapped, pointing at a tubby politician who had turned his skin orange with hideous fake tan.

"Who the hell are all those rich assholes?" Louise asked, squinting at the screen.

"There are two types of people in this world when something like this happens," Melissa muttered. Logan's face adopted a worried look. "Logan, are you OK?" she asked.

"I'm just worried about Angelo," Logan admitted. "The court hearing is today, and he said he was going to be there to see if Maxwell was going to get what he deserved or not."

"Speaking of that guy, what'll happen to him?" Louise asked.

"We'll never see him or his family again, that's for sure," Melissa replied. "That's a relief, I guess." The topic of conversation turned to who had just been arrested in connection to the New Wave of Intellect saga, and Angelo was forgotten. But Logan still thought about him, and he still worried.

 _Poor guy,_ Logan thought. _He's going to need a lot of help in future._ He was forced to snap out of it by his stomach and went to the canteen for a flapjack. As he stood in line to wait for the food of his choice, he knew that Angelo was anything but fine, and he would do his best to help him.

* * *

At the same time, Maxwell was being taken to court, being accompanied by his lawyer, two police officers and his parents, still wearing the jumpsuit they'd given him in prison. His mother cried into her fur coat as she watched her son's court battle, while his father remained stone faced. Angelo and his family was in court that day too, watching him go to the dock with hateful eyes. And of course, the media was there too, taking photos and videos of the soon-to-be historic event from their designated area. The judge walked into the court, and everyone rose to their feet, only sitting down when she sat down at the front of the court. "Maxwell Norwood-Sykes, you stand accused of solicitation of the kidnapping of Angelo Riva and grievous bodily harm. How do you plead?" the elderly judge queried, peering at them from her seat.

"Not guilty, your honour, on the grounds of diminished responsibility," Jeremiah replied, confident that he would be able to get his client a reduced sentence or even a not guilty verdict. Maxwell was standing before the judge and jury members, nervous and looking around him before a hand on his shoulder from his lawyer made him hold still and stop fidgeting. But that couldn't stop his eyes darting around.

"Would the prosecution please state their case?" the judge said. The prosecutor, a young black man with hair braided into cornrows on his scalp, stepped forward to make the case against Maxwell Norwood-Sykes.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, do not be fooled by the meek demeanour or age of the defendant. This boy, Maxwell Norwood-Sykes, slyly and with malicious aforethought, contacted an account controlled by a member of the New Wave of Intellect for the purpose of assisting in the abduction of 15-year-old Angelo Riva."

"Any evidence pertaining to this?" the judge asked, leering at the fresh-faced prosecutor as if he was the one on trial.

The prosecutor sighed as he went through the evidence against the affluent defendant. "He had done his best to ensure that it would go off without a hitch, by doing as much 'research' as he could. This is the first piece of evidence, his internet use. He searched the name on his phone and laptop, bookmarking and adding their official website to their favourites and visiting their website over 30 times leading up to the date of the abduction. According to his search history, he also had an odd obsession with the victim and knowing more about him, as shown in the 15 articles with the key words 'Angelo' and 'Riva' in the title." He paused to glance at the teenager, who smirked and shook his head. _They couldn't do anything to him using only this,_ he thought. _This was weird, but not criminal._

"Angelo was still new to the school. My client was . . . showing an interest in his classmate," Jeremiah replied. Angelo, watching this, felt sick. Knowing that Maxwell was that obsessed with him was nauseating.

"Would the defence please state their case?" The judge looked at the defence lawyer pointedly, as if daring him to say something. And Jeremiah Quentin Coburn rose to that dare.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, my client is a curious teenage boy, and that is all he is truly guilty of being," Jeremiah started, confident in his ability to defend his client's actions. "Maxwell Norwood-Sykes may come across to you as being a confused, scared teenager, and that's because he is. He was curious and wanted to learn more about the newest addition to his school. However, years of social rejection had made him shy, passive and quiet, so he put his classmate's name into the Google search engine instead of starting a conversation with his gifted classmate, since he feared backlash from yet another person in his life." Maxwell stood behind him, nodding and looking scared. The judge didn't look like she believed a word of it, but couldn't say anything about it because of the position she was in.

"Prosecution, would you like to continue with this part of the case, or would you like to move on to the next piece of evidence?" she drawled.

"There's more?" Candi sniffled, hiccupping quietly to herself as she noiselessly sobbed. Her husband offered her no sympathy or solace.

The prosecuting lawyer cleared his throat before pulling out the ultimate ace up his sleeve: the damned messages. Printed copies of the messages were handed over to the jury members and judge by a court usher. The smug smile that once took pride of place on Maxwell's face slipped off him like a mask. "I would now like to present to you the chatroom correspondence between the New Wave of Intellect, the account in question named NWI, which I shall refer to it as, and the defendant, which started on May 22nd of 2019. Maxwell instigated the correspondence with this message: 'When you talk about the great minds of the day, what sort of people do you mean?' NWI responded with, 'Geniuses, specifically child prodigies that are still active and haven't burnt out.' That was when Maxwell decided to . . . make himself useful, for lack of a better term. His next message was, 'I think I could help you. I know a child prodigy that is still active and lives in the same town as me. He even goes to the same school as me'. NWI asked, 'This is vital information. Can you give us his name?' And then Maxwell said, 'His name is Angelo Riva.' The next day-" He was forced to stop when the gasps of shock from the audience drowned out his speech. Angelo gagged, his parents holding him tightly. Media cameras zoomed in on his face as he shoved a hand in front of his mouth. Maxwell's mother wailed and buried her face into her freshly manicured hands. His father shrank into his chair out of pure shame. He was already thinking of ways to quietly get out of town in a way that would cause the least amount of gossip. But from the way this trial was going, there would be little reason to speculate about their departure; everyone would already know.

"Order, order!" the judge yelled, banging on the gavel until there was silence. "Proceed."

"The next day, May 23rd of 2019, Maxwell took this photo of the victim, Angelo Riva." A printed set of pictures of Angelo handed over to the judge and jury. A camera zoomed in on Angelo's horrified face. "NWI requested a photo of Angelo from Maxwell, which he got. NWI asked Maxwell, 'Where did you get this photo?' Maxwell replied with, 'I took it today.' He also provided a hyperlink to the school's newsletter, with the address of the school attached to it. After that, he received two more messages, the last two messages he ever received. The first one read, 'Thank you, Maxwell. You've been very helpful. I'm sure this will help our plans a lot.' The second one said, 'We'll be contacting your clever friend soon.' Not only does the final message have sinister undertones, they never explicitly asked for the victim's school address or any address at all, implying that the defendant knew exactly what they wanted and gave up the address of the school for the express purpose of providing information for the kidnap of Angelo Riva. It is just three days after their last known correspondence that Angelo is brutally kidnapped from Joey's Place at 3:55 PM, a pizza shop in Willowdale. In the final hours he spent there in their custody, he had his leg broken by one of the members of the organization. If Maxwell hadn't disclosed such sensitive details to the members of the organization, Angelo would never have been hurt in the first place, seeing as he is an integral part of the kidnapping."

The judge turned to Coburn. "Would the defence please state their case?"

The balding lawyer stood up to defend his client's character, which was becoming more and more unpleasant by the minute. "Like I said earlier, Maxwell is a socially inept boy, and this showed through in the chatroom correspondence. Desperate for some sort of social connection, he saw the messages and replied to them in an effort to fit in. Using his age, naivety and social ineptitude to their advantage, he was subsequently groomed to give up the location of the victim, after which he was discarded. The other gang members simply didn't need him after that." That was when he used his own trump card: Maxwell's age. "My client, Maxwell Norwood-Sykes, stands before you as a mere teenage boy, whose life hangs in the balance. He shouldn't have to suffer for the rest of his life over a mistake he made before he even turned twenty years old. He has his whole life ahead of him, and if given a lenient sentence, he can give back to society and live his life unimpeded by a criminal background or time served in jail. My client's judgement was impeded by his age and a lack of proper socialisation with his peers." The judge nodded before deciding to move on.

"And now that the evidence has been seen by the court, the jury now need to hear the victim impact statements," the judge told the court. Angelo limped to the front of the court, cameras clicking away. Shaky, he turned to look at the boy who'd helped to make his life a nightmare for three days.

"You made my parent's lives a living hell," the prodigy said, glaring at him. Maxwell didn't look at him, staring at his shackled hands. "They took my sister and I to Willowdale to escape danger, but you decided to take the danger to them. You forced them to live through every parent's worst nightmare: their child going missing. To be honest, I didn't think you were capable of doing anything more serious than bullying, homophobia and being a snob." Gasps came from some members of the audience, but it didn't stop Angelo. "We never got along, that I'll admit, but I thought that any and all disagreements would simply stay in school. I can handle being picked on, but I don't want anything to happen to those I love, and by telling the New Wave of Intellect where to find me so they could pull off the abduction, that is exactly what you did. I shall never forgive you for the pain, worry and confusion that you inflicted onto the loved ones in my life. I hate you and hope that you get a lot of time to think about just how wrong your actions were. Although looking at you now, I doubt you feel sympathy for anyone but yourself as you wonder how many years in jail you're going to receive." He let out a sigh, before concluding his statement. "Thank you all for listening. That is all." He made his way back to his seat, feeling his back being patted by his father. Although he had needed that quiet show of affection, it didn't help alleviate the feeling that he was carrying the world on his shoulders.

"Now that the victim impact statement is finished, does the defendant have anything to say for yourself in court?" All eyes and ears were on Maxwell as they waited to see if there was anything he had to say for himself, any explanation or apology for his actions. Coburn gave the boy a piece of paper to read off of, and thus his statement began.

"I come to you pleading for mercy," Maxwell started, already sniffling pathetically. "My life is in your hands. I still have the ability to be a functioning member of society once I become an adult, and prison time will only hinder my ability to do that. My life has been torn apart, and my family will lose me. I am a teenager. That is all I am truly guilty of; being an immature teenager." The first tear rolled down his cheek at this moment. "I'm not a dangerous individual. The media have called me heartless and cruel, but that is simply not true. I deserve a second chance in order to properly atone for my mistakes, because this will haunt me as much as the victim and his loved ones. If convicted, my life will be destroyed. I should not have to pay for immature teenage mistakes. The media was quick to tell people how Angelo was somebody's son and brother and friend. I am somebody's son, too." He sat down, and heard the mutters of the people gathered to watch him, along with the media reporters clicking away. It seemed his speech hadn't gone down as well as he thought. The judge turned to the jurors to give them some parting words regarding the case.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you have heard the defence and the prosecution, but whether or not you agree with them is up to you. You are excused to go and decide your verdict." The members of the jury left into a smaller room to discuss the case, and Maxwell looked over at his mother. The mascara stains on her face told him everything he needed to know. He then looked to his father for guidance, but he wasn't even paying attention to him, instead talking to his son's lawyer in hushed tones.

"Listen, Coburn. I didn't pay you what I paid you so my son could go to prison like some street criminal," he snarled. Coburn looked surprisingly nonchalant about it all, which infuriated Sean.

"I can only show the jury the evidence; I can't make them agree with me," he told them. "You know that." Sean grumbled and almost left the courtroom, before realizing that there would be reporters there and he would essentially be ambushed. Angelo stayed with his parents, not knowing what to do.

"Angelo, I'm so proud of you," Angelo's father soothed. "You were so brave, standing there and giving that speech."

"I love you so much," the science prodigy's mother assured. Angelo relaxed. He was safe. "Angelo, I want you to know that you did amazingly, being here to tell the court how it all affected you." Angelo nodded.

"Thank you," Angelo muttered. "I love you too."

"We love you too," they replied, in unison. From there, they sat in the audience of the courtroom, letting the hubbub of courtroom talking wash over them.

It took only half and hour for the jury to come back with a verdict. The spokesperson to the jury, a man with black hair that was slowly greying, stood up. "Have you reached a verdict?" the judge asked.

"We have, your honour," he replied.

"On the charge of solicitation of kidnapping, do you find him guilty or not guilty?"

"Guilty." There was a wail of horror as Candi Norwood-Sykes allowed herself to openly sob for the first time since the trial had began. She could get away with it now. There was no front she needed to put on now.

"And on the charge of grievous bodily harm, do you find him guilty or not guilty?"

"Guilty." Maxwell began to cry too. He knew at that moment that his life was over. He bawled even more than his mother did. The Riva family was just relieved. They could continue with their lives now.

"I can't go to jail! I'm just a kid! I'll die in there! No! NO!" Maxwell screamed.

"Maxwell Norwood-Sykes, you have been found guilty of solicitation of murder and grievous bodily harm. I sentence you to fifteen years in jail, ten for the solicitation of kidnapping and five for grievous bodily harm, which will run concurrently. Your sentence will begin in Blackwater Institution for Young Offenders, and you will be transferred to Obsidian Blade Maximum Security Prison upon turning eighteen, where you will serve out the rest of your sentence. That is the order of this court." She banged the gavel and the two police officers took him away, as he screeched like a banshee and fought against the literal hold they had over him.

"Angelo, I hate you! I HATE YOU!" the teenage convict screeched, just as Angelo and his family saw the last of him. Jeremiah slumped over in his chair in defeat, Candi wailed even more and the media was going insane with photos. This was going to be all over the news. It was at that moment that the Riva family decided to leave, braving the crowd of news reporters as they did so.

"Ben Preston, The Cannon. What do you think of the verdict given to Maxwell Norwood-Sykes?" a reporter asked him.

"Perfect. Everyone involved did an absolutely phenomenal job and I couldn't thank them enough," Angelo replied. "My family and friends can move on with their lives. That's what I'm looking forward to the most, really." He was shepherded out of there by his parents, the media personnel shouting more questions at him as they left. Once they were in the car, his dad hesitantly asked a question.

"Hey . . . this might not be the time, but . . . maybe, when we get home, we could stay in and order something to eat and watch a movie? As a family?" Bonaventura asked. Angelo smiled from the backseat of the car.

"Thank you. I needed that," the tired teenager smiled. "Wait for Mirella to come home, though."

"I know," Bonaventura muttered, as they went in. "You two can stay home while I get both Mirella and food. What would you like?"

"Pepperoni pizza with stuffed cheese crust," Angelo suggested.

"Chicken nuggets and chips," Roselle said. Pepsi rushed over to them at the mention of food, jumping up happily and barking. "Fine, you can have some of the nuggets when they get there."

"Come here, baby boy," Angelo cooed, as he went to sit down on the sofa, Pepsi snuggling close to him as he gave him gentle licks and puppy kisses. The typically excitable, hyperactive Retriever could tell that Angelo didn't need to be bombarded today, of all days. After Mirella came home and their dad brought in boxes of pizza and bags of chicken nuggets and chips, and they just sat there and ate, with TV in the background playing a family movie about dragon training. As Angelo watched the movie while eating a slice of pepperoni pizza, his phone pinged. It was Logan.

L: _Angelo, are you OK?_

A: _I'm fine. It's over now. It's all over._

L: _If you need to talk to anyone, I'm there for you._

A: _Thank you._

He put his phone down and went back to the movie, taking another pizza slice and smirking at his father. There would be good days and bad days, but today was certainly a good day.


	36. After everything

_Thursday, July 18th_

* * *

Thursday started the same way every day had started since he'd come home from the hospital. He'd get changed, eat breakfast, pack his stuff and went to school with Logan, who had picked him up from his house. They walked to school and . . . found the teachers being confronted by a camera crew.

This wasn't part of the plan.

"How did Maxwell slip under the radar?" a reporter shouted at the shaken headmistress.

"No comment," she snapped, as she tried to get away. Terrified, Angelo and Logan took the typically deserted back entrance. Nobody noticed their departure.

"They're talking to the wrong people," Angelo remarked, as they went to registration.

Logan looked at him. "And who _would_ be the right people?"

"His classmates. Us!" Angelo was exasperated. "We saw what he was like, so why don't they ask us? And it's not like we wouldn't want to talk to them."

"I guess so," Logan replied, as he took a seat. Angelo sighed and relaxed as students flooded into the classroom, only tensing up when Miss Turrets stormed in. She was in the worst mood he had ever seen her in.

"Damned reporters," she muttered, as she sat down. "Always getting in the way of things." She spied Angelo and made a beeline for him. "I shall be blaming you for all of this, Angelo, just so you know."

"Y-you will?" Angelo stammered. "Why are you blaming me?"

"Angelo, if you had just lay low like a normal person, they wouldn't be here," Miss Turrets told him, a matter of fact tone in her voice.

"I didn't ask for all this!" Angelo told her, appalled.

"Well, this whole kidnapping thing opened up a real can of worms, which started with you," Miss Turrets justified. Logan was horrified, and Angelo didn't dare look at her. She considered this to be permission to continue. "People are getting arrested left and right. Soon, all the rich people will be gone, businesses will be dissolved and the economy will shut down!"

"So I'm supposed to feel sorry for the people that think a loaf of bread costs £10 but think £8.21p is a liveable wage?" Angelo asked. Mrs Josephson was on her way to her office when she overheard the argument between student and teacher.

"And people are trying to interview faculty, which is ridiculous," she ranted. "You know what? There should be a policy where any catastrophe that can be traced back to one person can be blamed on them. We can call it the Angelo Riva policy, after you, and put your face next to it!" Mrs Josephson was mortified that a teacher was addressing a student like that, and Angelo noticed her.

Angelo tried to drop a hint to his teacher. "Are you sure Mrs Josephson would approve?"

"She wouldn't even notice," the tyrannical teacher snapped. "She's always in her little office, locked away in there like a hermit." At this point, Mrs Josephson came into view and stood behind her, livid.

"She doesn't look like she's locked away," Angelo noted.

Miss Turrets snorted. "Oh, don't be-" Angelo waved to the headmistress, making his teacher turn around.

"Angelo, I apologize for the things your teacher said. Miss Turrets, a word in my 'little office', please." The livid headmistress pointed at the door, and the terrified woman went with her, no longer so loud and bold.

"She's gone, honey! She's finally gone!" Logan was ecstatic. He smiled and hugged his boyfriend, but he wasn't hugged back. Angelo was squeezing on a stress ball, his eyes wide and looking at the wall in front of him. Angelo wasn't going to be interested in that. The celebration could wait. "Come on," he muttered, taking Angelo outside to the toilets. Angelo didn't say a word in protest; he knew he needed this. When they got there, Angelo just held him. No crying, no hyperventilation, no babbling, just holding him.

"Good boy. That's it." Angelo focused on his boyfriend's voice as Logan held him. "It's OK. I'm here."

"I'm sorry," Angelo muttered. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologize," Logan replied. "You didn't do anything wrong. Take your time. Shh." They stayed like that for a while, only leaving when Angelo felt ready.

"Can we go?" the prodigy muttered.

"Course, babe," Logan agreed. "Come on." They went to PE, and Angelo stayed on the bench as everyone else played dodgeball. It sucked . . . but it wouldn't suck forever. He'd have to get rid of the crutches soon, so that was something to look forward to.

"Angelo, you OK there?" Coach Hurley asked.

"Yes, sir," Angelo lied, staring at the floor. Uneasy, the coach nodded and went back to the dodgeball game, but he couldn't get it out of his head. After the game, he called for the survivor to come to his office.

"Angelo, I'm worried about you," Coach Hurley told him. "After . . . everything that's just happened, are you OK?"

"No," the Italian squeaked, and he broke down, crying hysterically. "Everything's just getting to me. The whole trial's all over the news and people keep calling my parents and that makes my dad angry and he storms off to walk the dog. I don't even know how they got the house number. I'm seeing it everywhere, now, even on Instagram. They're calling me a hero and I like that they're calling me a hero, but I hate that I'm never left alone. Miss Turrets said that if more rich people got arrested, the economy would be destroyed and that means she hates me for what I did, but I didn't mean to ruin the economy. I just wanted to help. The world knows me and I hate it. I want to be left alone again. I want to be a normal teenager, just for a little while."

The PE teacher looked at his injured student with pity. Angelo was still a child, and had so much to worry about. "Angelo, have you considered getting therapy?" Coach Hurley asked.

"I can't. My parents are under enough stress without worrying about sending their nerdy, messed up son to a therapist. They've spent enough money on me as it is," Angelo replied. The thoroughly disturbed coach made a mental note to call Angelo's parents during the first break he got. That kid needed help.

"Angelo, would you like to talk to the school guidance counsellor?" the teacher asked. "She could help you. Her office is around the corner from me."

"Thank you." The genius took his crutches and left the office, slightly happier. That happiness faded slightly when he found that his lesson was being taught by that one teacher that didn't like him.

"You're late," he curtly reminded the teenager.

"I was talking to Coach Hurley," Angelo told him. He nodded and, oddly enough, said no more about it. Angelo went to his seat, confused. "What's going on with him?" the boy genius asked his lover. "That guy hates me."

"He knows what happened to you, along with everyone else in the world," the artist explained. "He must have seen you in the news."

"Oh, great, another one," Angelo muttered. "I don't want to be recognized everywhere. I want to be normal, like you."

"You are so nice, thinking I'm normal," Logan cooed, his voice taking on a dangerous edge to it. "I can actually be a little freak sometimes, and I'll let you see it someday. Maybe even today. You want that? Do you?"

"Um . . . maybe," Angelo muttered.

"Good boy," Logan cooed. Nobody heard a thing, as they were far too busy listening to the teacher as they were handed worksheets. "OK, what are the answers?"

"The answer for the first one is B."

"And the next one?" Logan asked.

"D."

"And - oh." The next question was one to do with opinion. Angelo couldn't help him with that. Sighing, Logan started writing down a suitable answer.

"No telling other people the answers," the teacher droned. Logan still peeked at Angelo's answers, and Angelo pretended not to notice it. The teacher wasn't as forgiving.

"Logan, you will be staying here for break," the teacher replied.

"What? What for?" Logan spluttered.

"A word outside, please," he muttered. Logan got up and went with the substitute teacher, who looked at him like he was scum of the earth. "Words cannot describe how disgusted I am with you. That boy has already been through so much in his short life, and you have the nerve to copy from him? That is a complete slap in the face to everything he has ever done." It hit Logan that he was talking about the answers Angelo had given him.

"Sir, there has been a misunderstanding, he was actually helping me-"

"I'm sure it did help you. You will stay behind during break as punishment," he ordered. His eyes were filled with disgust for the small redhead. Sighing, Logan went back to his seat, fuming at just how embarrassing it was. He would never take advantage of Angelo.

"Are you OK?" the redhead's boyfriend asked.

"He thinks I'm taking advantage of you," Logan explained. "And now I'm staying behind during break. See you at history."

"See you," Angelo sighed, when the bell rang to release all but Logan. He hung around the classroom until the teacher shooed him away.

"What happened to him?" Melissa asked.

"Teacher thought he was cheating off of me," Angelo explained. "Actually, I was helping him with the answers."

"Well, that sucks," Melissa muttered. Angelo toyed with the sleeve of his shirt, feeling guilty. He'd gotten Logan into trouble, and he'd probably be really pissed off at him during history. This was all his fault.

* * *

Angelo spent break time feeling like a traitor. His logic went from Logan was going to be annoyed, to Logan was going to be really angry, to Logan was going to kill him. The moment he saw Logan, he started apologizing. "Logan, I'm so sorry!" Angelo babbled. "I should have been sneakier!" Logan was bemused.

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

"I should have been better at hiding the answers from the teacher. This is all my fault. I'm sorry." Angelo looked at his boyfriend with sorrow.

"Oh, honey," Logan replied, as he reached upwards to toy with Angelo's hair. "You are absolutely adorable. I'm not mad at you."

"You're not?" Angelo smiled like a little child when he heard the news. Logan wasn't angry with him!

"Of course not," Logan sighed. Angelo smiled as his boyfriend petted him, the smile turning devious as the smaller of the two whispered into the inventor's ear. "Angelo, I'll need to take you home today. You've become tense. Nothing a few hickeys can't solve."

"Umm . . . OK," Angelo muttered, blushing madly. "Are you sure that'll work?"

"Of course, Angelo; it's worked before, hasn't it?" Logan grinned as Angelo looked away, a rising blush forming. "What's that blush I see? You like the sound of that?"

"Logan, why do you keep teasing me?" Angelo whispered.

"Because you're just so cute," Logan teased. "I'll see you at your place, OK?" Angelo nodded, adorably meek.

* * *

_Fast forward to 3:00_

School ended, and Angelo couldn't resist letting Logan into the house again. His parents would be working until that evening and Mirella had a playdate with a friend for a few hours, so they wouldn't get caught for a while. The young Italian was dragged over to the sofa and swiftly pinned down. But it wasn't going to go the way Logan thought it was going to go. The tables were turned and Logan was on his back, with Angelo grinning down at him. "Did you think you would be on top again?" he grinned, his hand caressing the small of Logan's back. "How adorable."

"A-Angelo, no! I wanna be on-eep!" The sudden squirming and whimpering was from Angelo's hands on his ass, kneading, pinching and stroking. Kisses were all over him, and the redhead held on tightly, snuggling closer and willingly taking off his shirt, discarding it onto the floor. His neck was becoming littered in hickeys, precious whimpers filling the air from Logan's mouth.

"Now who's on top, huh?" Angelo grinned, taking off his own shirt. "Come on, leprechaun. You loved being on the bottom before, letting me take charge. I guess I'll have to reintroduce it to you." The bigger boy held Logan tightly and started feeling up his thin body. The whimpers and moans were becoming audible. "Quiet down, sweetie," Angelo smiled, his hands shamelessly groping Logan's groin. The prodigy felt his boyfriend hold him tight.

"Angelo, do that more! I-I want more! It feels _soooo_ good!" Logan begged. Angelo grinned and started snuggling Logan closer, hickeys getting stronger. As the moaning got louder, Angelo decided to get something to silence the redhead. That was when he found a scarf, an old gift from his grandmother. He took the scarf and shoved it into Logan's mouth, acting as an effective silencer.

"So sweet. Can't you talk any more?" Angelo taunted. "You don't need to do that now." His hand began to to explore Logan's body as hickeys were all over his neck and collarbone, and Logan squirmed, whimpering. Tears of pleasure sparkled in his eye. "Aww, what's wrong? Is it becoming too much for you?" Logan didn't want it to stop, shaking his head frantically. He took the scarf out of his mouth to talk.

"It's not too much. I want more. Please," Logan mumbled.

"You do? Oh, sweetie, no need to be ashamed, it's OK," Angelo sighed. "Sweet, shy little cutie." Logan curled up into a cute little ginger ball.

"I love you, Angelo," Logan muttered, squirming as his chin was scratched like a puppy. Then the kissing continued, the scrawny redhead blushing madly as he relaxed into Angelo's touch. All thoughts of rebelling and dominating Angelo vanished, slowly and gently, like the popping of bubble wrap. One thought of domination and rebellion fading away at a time. What he had wanted to do with and to Angelo now seemed, at best, Herculean. _He_ was the toy now, and as Angelo stroked his inner thigh and he blushed and looked away, he just knew not to question it.

"I love you too. Good boy," Angelo muttered, as Logan simply became more and more aroused. "Tiny little plaything doesn't like the tables turning, does he? Or . . . maybe he does?"

"I love this," Logan groaned, breathing heavily and fast.

"You know something? Maybe I should keep _you_ as _my_ little toy." Angelo's eyes gleamed dangerously. "You want to be a little toy for me?" Logan nodded. "Say it." Logan was mortified, but he had to say it.

"I wanna - I-I wanna be a - Angelo, I can't. I can't say it."

"I'm sure you can. Now, be a good little boy and say it." He held his chin, forcing Logan to look him in the eyes.

The petite boy whimpered, before doing what he was told. He looked up at Angelo and shifted, squirming. "I wanna be a little toy for you." He didn't dare look his boyfriend in the eyes after that.

"Good boy," Angelo smiled, snuggling him. The groans were getting loud, and he was getting annoyed. So Angelo gagged him with the scarf again and every part of Logan's body was groped and squeezed. The boy snuggled and moaned with pleasure, until it got to be too much.

"Stop! No more! I want cuddles!" Logan whimpered. Angelo smiled, putting his shirt on and cuddling his boyfriend.

"So cute. I wouldn't trade you for the world," Angelo muttered. "You squirm an awful lot, even when you like it."

"Yes," Logan admitted. "I can't help it."

"And whether I want to make out with you or not, I want to be able to always make you squirm," Angelo replied, and he picked out a soft spot on Logan's tummy to tease.

"Angelo, stohohohohohohop! No!" Logan begged, giggling. "You are so mean!"

"But I thought you liked being my little toy," Angelo cooed. The cartoonist blushed.

"Angelohohohohoho, stop that," he whined, as a finger nestled between his ribs. "You know I'm smaller than you. You can just use me like a little rag doll whenever you want to, no matter what I say. Not fair."

"How is that any different from when you would pin me down after coming home and play with my body and toy with either giving me hickeys or tickling me witless, and then play the role of the sweet, caring boyfriend?" Angelo asked. Logan blushed madly, looking away. "I had a broken leg and was under your care, remember? You loved taking me home and picking me up from my house, but you loved giving me hickeys even more." The squirming Logan buried his face into Angelo's chest, humiliated. "Oh, it's OK. You can just lay with me," Angelo muttered. "Sweet, precious boy."

"Angelo, this is perfect," Logan replied, snuggling closer to Angelo. Angelo stroked his head, falling asleep. This was perfect, just perfect. "We should do this more."

"I know, honey, we should, and we will," Angelo smiled, grinning at the hickeys on his neck. Everyone who saw Logan would know that he had lots of fun.

"Can I . . . borrow that scarf?" Logan muttered. "For going home?"

"Yeah," Angelo replied. Logan hugged him and got up, wrapping the scarf around his neck.

"Thank you, I've gotta go. I love you." Logan got up, put his shirt on and left, blushing at the tingling on his neck.

"I love you too," Angelo replied, as his boyfriend left his house, sticking to back alleys until he got home.

"And where have you been?" Martha asked. "I called you twenty times! I was worried sick!" Logan's blood went cold.

"My phone was on silent."

"What could have distracted you so much?"

Logan looked away with shame. "I was with Angelo," he admitted.

"I was so worried about you, and all this time you were making out?" Martha was incensed. "Just go to your room, before my head explodes." Logan went to his room, secretly glad that that was the extent of his mother's anger. If she knew about the hickeys on his neck, she would have exploded for real. Logan looked at himself in the mirror, worrying about how to cover this up tomorrow. Scarves weren't allowed in school, but he would need to give Angelo his scarf back soon. Until then, he was going to love looking at the love bites on his neck from the precious boy with a healing leg.

* * *

Angelo, meanwhile, was being talked to by his parents. "Honey, we got a call from one of your teachers. He said he was worried about you." Angelo's mother looked at her son with worry.

"If you need to talk to somebody, you can talk to us, or a therapist, or your teachers," Bonaventura told him. Angelo nodded.

"I just feel so guilty. Everyone knows what happened to me and the teacher said all the rich people getting arrested would ruin the economy, and she was going to blame me for it. I don't want to be a burden. I want to be a kid. I want to be me."

"We will support you every step of the way," Bonaventura told him. Angelo nodded, before going to bed. Pepsi decided to go with him, the loyal dog snuggling him until he fell asleep, but not until the middle of the night. Everything weighed on his mind, and he saw sleep as a temporary, but sweet release from his torturous life. When he was asleep, he could forget.


	37. Physical therapy

_Friday, July 19th_

* * *

Logan started his day with a text from Angelo. It read as follows:

A: _I'm not going to school today. I have to go to physical therapy and it's going to take a while._

L: _OK._

Logan sighed and went to school alone. Mr Carey looked at him with worry. "Is everything all right, Logan?" he asked.

"I'm fine. I just wish Angelo was here," Logan muttered. "He has physical therapy today, for his leg. So I'll be a little lonely today, I guess."

"Of course. You can talk to me if you need anything," Mr Carey decided. Logan nodded, feeling empty. Angelo was the best thing about school now, which meant that everything had gotten so boring without him there.

 _It's going to be OK, Angelo,_ Logan thought. _Be brave._

* * *

Meanwhile, Angelo was sitting in the waiting room of a physiotherapist's office with his mother. He was terrified, looking around and squirming in his seat. "Help," he whimpered.

"Shh, it's OK," Roselle replied. "It'll take around two hours and then you'll feel better."

"Two hours feels like a long time for a therapy session," Angelo murmured.

"It sounds like a long time, but it'll be over in a flash, honey," she promised.

"Angelo Riva to Examination Room 3," a microphone called.

"I'll be right here," Roselle told him, as they walked to the examination room. It was pristine and white, with an examination table in the top right hand corner of the room. A male doctor was waiting for them.

"Hello, Angelo. I am Doctor Kenneth Prince. It's good to see you and . . . your older sister?" He looked at Angelo's mother with confusion, wanting her to clarify his confusion. The blonde blushed.

"I'm actually his mother," Roselle corrected.

The doctor's cheeks gained two small scarlet spots in the centre of them. "I'm so sorry. Angelo, hop up onto the table and remove your boot, sock and roll up your trouser leg," he ordered. Angelo got onto the table and did as he was told, removing the boot (he hated it) and rolling up the trouser leg.

"Mum, can you wait outside?" The injured boy looked away as he said it. His mother nodded.

"Of course." Roselle walked out of the examination room, a smile on her face from the doctor's mistake.

"Now, I'm hearing something about a weak leg, is that right?"

"Yes," Angelo admitted.

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

"Sort of," Angelo reported. "It just feels fragile."

"Angelo, I'm just going to massage the leg and you tell me if I hit a spot that hurts, OK?" he said, as he started kneading at Angelo's leg. The teenager let out a squeal as he felt hands knead at his foot and leg. "Is everything all right?"

"I'm ticklish! Stop that!" Angelo squealed, blushing as the squirming fingers starting at his toes and journeying upward. He squirmed and giggled, the laughter dissipating slightly as the dreaded hand travelled up his leg. He stopped laughing altogether when Kenneth squeezed the site of the fracture, suppressing a whine of pain. "There! That hurts," Angelo told him.

"Let me guess: that's the site of the fracture," Kenneth replied. Angelo looked at him with a blank look on his face. "This must be where your leg is broken."

"I think so," Angelo murmured.

"Is this where most of the weak feeling comes from?"

"Yeah. The rest is in my ankle," the Italian replied. The doctor's hands slipped down to his ankle, ignoring the teenager's squirming. "Just tell me if it hurts." He started feeling parts of Angelo's foot, and he shot up and squealed, giggling.

"Ahahahahahahahaha! Get off me!" he squealed, kicking out.

"I'm just checking to see if the bones in your foot, leg and ankle healed right. Now hold still," Kenneth ordered.

"Yes, sir. I'll - HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! _GESÙ CRISTO!_ (1)" Angelo screamed. The feeling of the doctor's fingers gliding over his foot was nothing short of maddening. "NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! EEEEK!" The squeak came from a finger slipping in between the toes.

"Well, I've never seen such an explosive reaction!" The amused man sat back for a few minutes and let Angelo recover.

"Oh, God . . . please don't do that again," he begged. "I don't want to do this again. Please, sir."

"I have to do a thorough examination of your leg," he sighed, as if talking to a toddler and not a teenager. "You just need to be brave and hold still."

"You don't need to tell me to be brave. I'm not a child," Angelo huffed.

"You say you're not a child, but you squealed like a little kid," Kenneth replied, smiling. Angelo blushed, not daring to look at him. "Now, I am going to start massaging your leg, and you are going to hold still so I can do my job properly. You can laugh all you want, but just hold still. Do you understand?" Angelo nodded meekly.

"Yes, sir," Angelo told him, extending his leg and letting the physician caress his leg, checking to see if there were more places that hurt. Angelo laughed hysterically as Kenneth's skilled hands stroked his arches. At least he kept the squirming to a minimum. This worked out quite well for Dr Prince, who could continue to do his job, and do it properly. Later, when he got home, he would tell his family and friends about the giggling teenager that couldn't hold still to save his life, much less his foot.

"DOHOHOHOHOHON'T DOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO THAHAHAHAHAHAHAT! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE!" Angelo pleaded. His lungs felt like they were on fire. The warning GET AWAY FROM THERE was flashing in his brain like the lights of a panic button.

"Excuse me, Angelo, but do your parents know that you're so adorable like this?" The teasing tone in his voice was back, and he hated it. It was like he was a toy to be played with by a sadistic doctor. "OK, OK, I'll let you breathe."

"Thank you," Angelo sighed, catching his breath. It took five minutes for him to fully recover, his breathing slowing and becoming more regular.

"Done breathing? Good." The examination restarted, and Angelo howled with laughter. His mother was wrong. It was going to be a long two hours.

* * *

"Honey, how are you so tired? What happened?" Roselle asked, as her son sat in the back of the car, pouting and looking away.

" _Mamma_ (2), how much longer do I have to do this physical therapy thing?" Angelo asked.

"Until your leg is better," Roselle told him. The gleam in her eyes told him that she was serious. He wasn't getting out of this any time soon. "And Angelo, don't be shy if you need anything else."

"But I shouldn't need anything else!" Angelo blurted out. "You already do so much, you can't do this too!"

"We're your parents, we want you to be happy. And that means taking you to all these different therapies, so we can do what's best for you."

"But it's expensive. You should save your money," Angelo insisted. "And you and Dad have been taking time off work a lot because of me."

"Your mental health is just as important as your physical health, Angelo. That's why you are going to receive therapy for both." There was a tense silence in the car ride home. The teenager watched his mother's knuckles turn white as her hands gripped the steering wheel.

"Thank you," Angelo muttered. The blonde smiled.

"If I could reach over and hug you, I would," she told him. Angelo smiled. "Oh, I forgot to ask: how did the physical therapy feel?"

". . . OK," Angelo lied.

"It tickled, didn't it? Your dad said the same thing about you when you were getting your cast removed," Roselle divulged. Angelo stiffened, his face reddening. This was humiliating.

"He . . . told you about that?" he squeaked.

"Yes, he said you were adorable." Roselle watched from the rear view mirror as her son sank into his seat with humiliation.

"I hate my life right now," Angelo sighed.

"Don't be too mopey. You're going to get Friday ice cream with all of us after Mirella gets out of school," Roselle cooed. Angelo relaxed, smiling just a little. "That should take the edge off everything."

"Yeah. Ice cream. That sounds nice," he muttered. "Please don't tell Dad about what I was like."

"I don't have to. He'll get it out of you sooner or later." Roselle grinned at him. She didn't even need to look at her son to know that his face was burning red.

* * *

_Fast forward to 3:15_

"Angelo, stay there while I get Mirella," Roselle told him, as she got out of the car in front of Mirella's school.

"OK," Angelo said. He watched his mother leave, and he started going through his phone. There was several missed notifications on his phone from Instagram. He'd been tagged in a video. More than one. He was worried about what it would say, but he had no WiFi, so he couldn't watch it. It was a bit of a relief . . . a bit.

"Angelo!" Mirella squealed, hugging him. "Will you get ice cream with us? It's Friday, and Friday is ice cream day!"

"Yeah, of course!" he promised. "We just have to wait for Dad, OK?"

"OK," Mirella replied. "And Pepsi, too?"

"I hope so," Angelo replied. "I like having Pepsi with us."

"Fine, Pepsi can come with us," Roselle replied.

"Yay!" Mirella squealed, hugging Angelo. "Pepsi will stay with us!"

"We can't get ice cream yet, honey, you have to wait for a bit," the prodigy said, as his little sister deflated. "Come on. Get in." She hopped into the car, and they went home. Angelo just looked through the window and ignored Mirella, so she took his phone to play with.

Pepsi greeted them with happy licks, ecstatic at the prospect of his family being home. He jumped up to lick Angelo especially, who stumbled backwards.

"Hey, Pepsi! Off now, there's a good boy," Angelo insisted. Pepsi got off his master, happy to see him.

"Pepsi, wanna go get ice cream?" Mirella asked. Pepsi nodded. " _Mamma_ , he said yes!"

"Now, you go and ask Daddy if he wants to come, Mirella," Roselle suggested. The little girl giggled and went to find her father.

"Angelo, get off your phone for a few seconds. You spend too much time on that thing," Roselle scolded.

"I'd stay off of it if it didn't bother me so much," Angelo told her. The two held still as his phone pinged with notifications over and over. "It's like it won't leave me alone!"

"Ah." His mother's voice was laced ever so slightly with worry. "Why is your phone going off so much?"

"I don't know and I don't want to." His phone seemed like it was taunting him, threatening him with its presence. He didn't want to look at it, shoving it into his pocket and trying to forget about it.

"Angelo, what do you want?" Mirella asked. "Chocolate milkshake again?"

Angelo thought about it. "I think I'd like some sort of cake. Or pie."

"OK," Mirella replied, skipping away. Angelo went back to trying not to look at his phone, but it was getting harder by the second. He needed a distraction. Hell, he needed a miracle.

And he got one.

"Hahahahahahahahaha! Hey!" Angelo squealed, blushing as he tried to push the oblivious, happy dog off him. But Pepsi was an unintentional, but effective weight on Angelo's body, rendering him helpless. "Pepsi! Get ohohohohoff me! Ahahahahahahahahahahahaha!"

"Pepsi, get off him," Roselle ordered. The Golden Retriever jumped off Angelo's bed and sat next to it. "Angelo, why does he keep doing this to you?"

"Don't look at me like I know the answer," the exhausted boy huffed. "He just does that sometimes. I don't know why, but I'm willing to bet that it has something to do with Santo. I don't know why; I just do."

"Angelo, you can't blame Santo for what Pepsi does to you," Roselle sighed. "Now get downstairs."

"In a minute," Angelo replied, as his mother turned her back on him. He went onto Instagram . . . and promptly regretted it. The first one was a video made by a girl in ripped denim jeans and a black shirt. Her bleach blonde hair fell over her face and eyes.

"The moment I heard about Angelo Riva's story, I wasn't really that interested in it. When all those rich people were getting arrested, I still didn't care about it. But when I saw a picture of him for the first time, I realized something: this guy is actually really hot! Seriously, he looks grown up and serious and I just really like the brooding look. One thing that annoyed me was that I didn't know how to contact him. So I searched up his name, like, everywhere, to see if I could find him and message him, and I actually could! He has an Instagram account, and his handle is called the_real_angelo_riva! And also the age gap. I'm a little apprehensive about dating a younger guy, but I'm sure he wouldn't care. Lots of guys like dating a girl with more experience. Hey, Angelo, if you're watching and you want to hook up with a hot blonde, call me!" The video ended there, with Angelo feeling sick. Against his better judgement, he clicked on the next video.

"Angelo Riva's cover was a complete waste of time," a man said. He had dark hair and a small, round head. His white shirt had several reddish stains on the front. His bottom half was obscured from view by a table. "What was the use of sending him to that school anyway? I get that he was supposed to be blending in as a normal child, but he wasn't even given a fake name or anything. And then he got put with a crazy kid who told the maniacs where he was so he could be taken away by a bunch of creepy people with white masks. He was put in danger, and worst of all, him going to that school meant that he never did anything meaningful there. If he's not doing any exams, it's useless!" There was one last video left for him to watch, but he didn't dare watch it. He went downstairs, where his family were putting on their shoes.

"Where were you?" Mirella asked. "We need to go get ice cream!"

"OK, OK!" Angelo sighed, putting on his shoes and going out of the house with his family to get ice cream. Ice cream sounded nice. Way better than Instagram, anyway.

"Angelo, you're going to have ice cream with us all the time, aren't you?" Mirella asked.

"For as long as I can," Angelo promised.

"Mirella, what do you want?" Roselle asked.

"A cookie!" the girl squealed. Pepsi jumped up, expecting to see a cookie that he could beg for. "No, Pepsi, not for you! Cookies will make you sick!"

"Kiddo, what do you want? Ice cream to give yourself brain freeze?" their father asked.

"Actually, I was thinking about getting pie," the injured boy mused.

"So . . . you don't want a smoothie? Fine, I'll get one then."

"Wow, this must be the closest you've come to sticking to a diet in years." Roselle gazed at the menu board after saying that, while Angelo snickered, while trying to smother his laughter. This was a bad move, since he was sitting right next to his father.

"Oh, you think it's funny?" the father growled playfully, as he grabbed the nerdy Italian and squeezed his sides, listening to his son giggle and try to squirm away. Angelo tried to wiggle out of his father's grasp, but it just seemed to get easier for him. "Was that another insult about my weight, huh? Was it?"

"Angelo was all giggly like that for his physical therapy, too," Roselle replied.

 _"Mamma!"_ Angelo hissed.

"Honestly, he's saying that as if I didn't watch him scream with laughter while his cast was being removed. That's adorable," Bonaventura cooed. Angelo heard them, but only barely. He could feel his father's large fingers wriggling into his ribs, and he felt his laughter spill out of his mouth.

"Ahahahahahahahahahaha!" he squealed. "Dad, no! Nohohohohohohohohohoho! Not thehehehere!"

"Daddy, let Angelo go," Mirella scolded. "Right now!" Angelo blushed.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"You heard the little lady," Roselle told them. "Stop messing around. Let him go and order."

"Blueberry pie," Angelo replied.

"Chocolate brownie," Mirella babbled.

"I'll have that berry smoothie," Bonaventura replied.

"Strawberry ice cream. Right, I'll give our order to the lady behind the counter." The mother of the group took their order to the cashier, a black-haired girl with a name tag that read Allison. "A strawberry ice cream, chocolate brownie, berry smoothie, blueberry pie and a bowl of water for the dog, please."

"Coming right up," Allison replied, as she gathered ingredients for the smoothie and put the frosted blueberry pie into the oven and started to heat it up. Unsurprisingly, the water for Pepsi was ready first. It was the easiest to prepare, after all.

"Pepsi, your water's here," Angelo pointed out. Pepsi barked and began to drink.

"And here's a treat," Allison cooed. "Wanna sit up for a treat?" Pepsi didn't just sit, he jumped on her. "Oh!"

"Pepsi, off! We do not jump on people! I'm so sorry." Angelo was mortified, watching his dog essentially attack the waitress.

"You don't need to apologize for such a cute dog," she cooed. "Pepsi's his name, right? Hello there, cutie pie. If you give me a high-five I'll get you another treat." Pepsi raised his paw, and the girl high-fived him. "Oh my god, good boy! I'll get you that treat, you've earned it!" She gave Pepsi the treat before bustling off to get more.

"I have no idea who taught him that," Angelo blurted out, as Pepsi ate the treat. "I know I didn't. Maybe Santo taught him that?"

"I did. I wanted him to give me a high-five," Mirella cooed.

Angelo suppressed shrieking with glee at how smart his little sister was. "Aww! I love you so much, cutie, and you did such a good job with Pepsi."

"Yay!" she squealed. Pepsi jumped up and barked happily. "Pepsi, shush!" Pepsi laid down and started whining, pawing at Angelo's leg for food.

"I'm sorry, buddy," Angelo sighed. "I don't have anything for you. My food will make you sick." Pepsi huffed and rolled his eyes.

"Here's the chocolate brownie, the berry smoothie, the blueberry pie and the strawberry ice cream," the girl announced.

"Thank you, miss," Bonaventura replied.

"Thank you," Roselle replied.

"Thanks," Angelo told her.

"Thank you," Mirella chirped. Pepsi barked.

"I think that's thank you in Dog," Angelo told Allison.

"I accept your thank you," she replied. "Oh, and I got Pepsi his treats." Angelo had never seen such a happy look on Pepsi's face as he was handfed treats. The waitress smiled and went off to do . . . whatever.

"Can we do this every day?" Mirella babbled. "I love this place!" Angelo jumped slightly. It was slight, but enough for his father to notice and try to take the precocious boy away for a talk.

"Angelo, would you like to go outside?" Bonaventura replied. Angelo nodded. The two went outside, and Angelo just seemed lost. "Angelo, look at me. It's OK." The younger of the two just deflated.

"I want it to stop, Dad, all stop," Angelo babbled. "There's this video on Instagram of this girl saying that she found out how to contact me on Instagram, and she talks about me in a creepy way. This other guy saying that everything you did to protect me was a waste of time. I got sent a third video, but I haven't watched it. I don't want to. It scares me. I'm not supposed to be scared, but I am."

The raven-haired man looked at his son with betrayal. Angelo should be telling him about this stuff. "Angelo, why didn't you say anything?"

"I wanted to handle it. You're busy and stressed."

"You know you can tell me about anything bothering you. I will do anything to help you, and you can talk to me any time," Bonaventura assured. "Now, do you-" Angelo cut him off by hugging him. The boy's father just knew that he couldn't let go of his son just yet. "Oh."

"Sorry," Angelo muttered.

"Take all the time you need," Bonaventura muttered.

* * *

When they got back, Mirella was making Pepsi do tricks. "Pepsi, speak!" Pepsi barked. "Pepsi, beg." He whimpered, standing up on his back legs and waving his front legs in tandem with each other.

"Mirella, you're so smart," Angelo praised. "Aww, Pepsi, you're being such a good boy!" Pepsi barked happily. Mirella grinned, almost sadistically, in her direction of her older brother. He ate the rest of his blueberry pie, while his sister's brain cooked up a wicked plot. It wasn't actually evil, but Angelo thought it was.

"Pepsi, go play with Angelo!" Mirella ordered. The dog jumped on him, licking his stomach as he giggled hysterically.

"Hey! Ahahahahahahahahahahaha! Not again! Eek! Nohohohohohohohohoho!" He found himself being held still by his father, while Pepsi licked his sensitive stomach.

"Angelo, hold still, I need to keep you right here. I want that smile back," Bonaventura whispered, as Angelo laughed hysterically. He thrashed around and tried to beg for mercy.

"Gahahahahahahahahaha! Please! No more!" If the dog wasn't bad enough, he felt fingers dig into his ribs and stomach. His laughter grew louder, and tears of mirth collected in the corners of his eyes.

"Fine, fine, I can let you go," Bonaventura replied, releasing Angelo to his amused mother and sister. He blushed madly and looked away.

"Did you have to do that?" Angelo muttered, squirming at the thought of it.

"I just wanted to see a smile on my little boy's face again," Bonaventura replied. The robotics prodigy looked at him for a few seconds, before turning away.

"Daddy, can we go now?" Mirella asked. The parents nodded, and they got up, paying for their food before making their way to the door. Angelo got his crutches and Pepsi's leash and went with him.

"That was fun," Angelo said, when he got home.

"Yay! Angelo, can you play with me in my room?" Mirella asked. "You don't play with me any more." She looked at Angelo with those big, brown eyes, and he couldn't resist.

"OK," he replied, going upstairs to Mirella's room. It was a blizzard of pink and glitter. "So, what are we playing?"

"Tea party!" Mirella babbled. "I can be Queen Mirella, and you can be King Angelo! Would you like some tea, King Angelo?"

"Yes, Queen Mirella," Angelo smiled, as the queen poured him a tiny cup of imaginary tea that he pretended to drink.

And that was how the rest of his day went, Angelo and Mirella pretending to drink tea and pretending they were royalty. Unbeknownst to them, their parents were watching them through a crack in the door, which they'd left slightly ajar.

"You think he'll be OK?" their father asked. Their mother already knew the answer.

"Eventually. But I think Mirella's helping with that." They watched them play tea party more, right up until it got late.

"Angelo, it's time for bed," Roselle replied. Angelo whimpered, looking up at his parents with puppy eyes.

"Do I have to?" Angelo whimpered.

"Yes," his father sighed. "Come on, kiddo. Up." Angelo sighed, taking himself to his room. His father went with him and decided he knew a way to tire him out.

"Ahahahahahahahahahahahaha! Daddy!" Angelo giggled, blushing as he called his father a juvenile name.

"Aww, it's OK, I just need to tire you out," he insisted. "Hold still, silly."

"Bahahahahahahahahahahahahaha! Nohohohohohohohoho!" he giggled. "Whyhyhy would you-" _(yawn)_ "-do that?"

"So you're too tired to fight back." Bonaventura watched as Angelo breathed in and out, his breathing steadying and his eyelids drooping.

"That's what I thought." Smirking at Angelo's sleeping frame, that had been kicking and fighting back only minutes before, he left his son's room for his own sleep.

* * *

Translations

1: JESUS CHRIST! Italian.

2: Mom/Mum. Italian.


	38. Nightmares

_Saturday, July 20th_

* * *

It was 2:00 AM, and Angelo was having a nightmare. His dreams had taken him back to the kidnappers who stole his innocence and mobility.

"So, you thought you could sell us out to the corrupt police force, could you? You thought it was that easy?" The man who burst into his prison cell was there in his dreams again, and he was no longer in his bedroom. Angelo had been taken back to their base, in his cell, if he could call him that. The rotting mattress was behind him, along with the bucket used for excrement and his bottle of water. Everything was coming back to him. He burst into the room with a crack. "You're going to be sorry you were born, you little piece of shit." The punches and kicks started, and Angelo screamed.

"Get off me! Get off me! Help! HELP!" He screamed the words in his sleep, tossing and turning in his bed. The dream assailant landed a kick to his leg, making Angelo scream louder. It was his father who woke him up from the night terror.

"Angelo, wake up! Wake up! It's a nightmare! It's just a nightmare! Angelo!" He shook his son to get him out of the horrific dream world. Slowly, Angelo came around, terrified that he was being attacked. He flailed around, trying to land a decent punch before realizing he was in safe hands.

"Dad!" he babbled, going limp as he felt a set of arms wrap around him. He was safe.

"Angelo, I'm here," Bonaventura repeated, over and over. "I'm here. I'm here." As his son sobbed into his arms, he promised to do what he could to help his boy. It took him hours to stop his son's crying, wordlessly cradling Angelo’s shaking frame in his arms. He wiped his son's tears away, shushing him like he did when he was an infant. "It's OK."

"No." Angelo's voice was quiet, meek. "What if they come back?"

"They're gone, OK? All the bad people are gone now. It's OK." Angelo cried in his father's arms, his green eyes haunted by traumatic memories of his kidnapping and how he broke his leg. Soon, his eyelids drooped, his mind slipping away into a dreamless sleep. Bonaventura made sure to soothe his son as much as possible. "Yes, that's it. Good boy, Angelo. Go to sleep now. You've had a long night." Angelo let out a sigh as he fell asleep, exhausted in every sense of the word.

When Angelo woke up for the second time at 9:30 and went downstairs for breakfast, he found his sister looking at him oddly. "Mirella, what are you doing?" the prodigy asked.

"Would you like a present?" Mirella asked, thrusting a homemade charm bracelet into her brother's face. The confusion was apparent on Angelo's face.

"Why?"

"You were crying at night. You said you wanted help. Maybe the bracelet will help." She tried to force the bracelet into his hands again.

Angelo felt a wave of guilt and shame wash over him. Mirella had woken up in the middle of the night because he was being weak. "You heard that? I'm so sorry I woke you up."

"It's OK. I've had bad dreams before, just like you. Will this make you feel better?" The bracelet was offered to him for a third time. This time, he accepted it, not resisting as she fastened it to his wrist. It was made out of pipe cleaner and plastic beads, but Angelo treated it as if it was made of gold and diamonds.

"Thank you, sweetie." His eyes welled up with tears. He had the best little sister in the world.

* * *

Maxwell was also having a nightmare, but unlike Angelo, his took place during the day, when he was awake. He was sat in jail, rubbing his bruises from being pushed around yet again. He wasn't supposed to be there. The other inmates might deserve to be there, but he didn't. He was different, a breed apart. Obviously, he still blamed Angelo, but now he would also blame his lawyer for not being good enough to get him out of there. At the next visiting time, his parents promised to fight it to get their precious son out of jail.

"Mum, Dad!" Maxwell wailed. His mother burst into tears and hugged her son, kissing him witless all over his face.

"Oh, my baby!" she wailed. "I missed you!"

"Candi, pull yourself together! We can get him released, we are the Norwood-Sykes family," Sean replied. "I'll apply for a retrial on the grounds of ineffective counsel."

"And I'll get out of here! Yes, yes, yes!" Maxwell squirmed in his seat with joy, the grin of a classic spoiled brat on his face. He knew he was going to get what he wanted, and that his parents would arrange everything.

"Prison visitation time is over!" a guard yelled. "Line up and go back to your cells!" Maxwell lined up to go back inside, looking at his sobbing mother and stoic father before going back to his cell. He looked around and saw a maze of concrete and bars. Now it was his turn to sob. His life was essentially over. And it was all Angelo Riva's fault. Angelo was so amazing, Angelo was so smart, Angelo was the coolest person in the world. He'd only been there for a few weeks and they all loved him! They loved him and whenever he tried to show them stuff about him, they just hated him.

"I hate you, Angelo Riva," Maxwell muttered, as he glared at the wall. Soon, another prisoner came into his cell, accompanied by a few friends.

"Hello, Maxie," he snickered. "I know a guy that wants to talk to you. How about you come with us to see him?" As the other boys approached him, he couldn't help but whimper and cry. To them, he was nothing but a toy.

A very entertaining toy.

* * *

Once Angelo's parents had gone shopping, Logan went to Angelo's house. He knew that Angelo would want to stay home a lot more, because of his leg, and he wanted to make him feel better. "Angelo? Angelo, are you there?" He hammered on the door, not stopping until it was opened by his now terrified boyfriend. "Angelo, why didn't you – oh. Oh, God. I'm so sorry. Are you OK?"

"F-fine," Angelo lied. He didn't dare look at Logan when he spoke.

"No, you're not, and you know it. I'll close the door. You need to sit down." Logan's blue eyes pierced a hole in his skull, and Angelo felt himself submit. He nodded and sat down onto the sofa, his mind filled with the horrors of Thursday, May 29th, 2019. Angelo didn't notice the arms wrapped around him at first, the small, warm weight leaning on him.

"Are you OK?" Logan asked. A silent tear fell down Angelo's face, followed by more tears louder than the first, and Logan just held him. "That's it. That's a good boy. Let it all out. I love you so much. It's OK. Shh."

"Thank you. I love you," Angelo sobbed, snuggling closer to his boyfriend.

"Angelo, I love you too," Logan whispered. "Let it all out. It's OK. Sweetie, you know you can tell me anything, right?"

"Yes," Angelo muttered, as he curled up into a ball. "You're so good to me. Thank you."

"It's OK," Logan muttered, cooing at his boyfriend. "Babe, want to cuddle?" Angelo nodded. "Come on, honey." Angelo laid next to his boyfriend, sighing as hands approached him. "Good boy."

"Thank you," Angelo blushed, as he felt his mind melt. Logan's hands were magical. "Just perfect."

"Good," Logan grinned. Angelo's blissed-out face was adorable. "Now, I'm going to start rubbing your shoulders, and you're going to tell me exactly when and where it hurts. I don't want you to be in pain. You're so cute and I don't want to lose you."

"I love you so much," Angelo muttered, as gentle, small hands cruised over his body. "I'm yours, Logan, all yours."

"Yes, you are." Logan looked down at his half-conscious boyfriend, purring in his arms. Angelo needed him right now. He touched a spot on Angelo's back, and the boy sighed, actually talking to him.

"That feels . . . good."

"So, I guess you want more?" Logan asked. Angelo nodded. He blushed as more attention was paid to his back. A whimper was about to come out of his mouth, and Logan shut him up with something he came with: a lollipop. Angelo's eyes snapped open at the sound of it being unwrapped.

"What's that?" Angelo asked. Logan chuckled, extending it to him.

"It's a lollipop. I thought you'd like it," he smiled. "Strawberry-flavoured, in case you're wondering." Angelo looked confused, before taking it and placing it into his mouth to suck on, feeling like a baby sucking on a pacifier. Logan smiled at him, making his boyfriend turn scarlet. "Good boy," Logan sighed. Angelo took the lollipop out of his mouth to talk.

"Why do you smile when I suck on the lollipop?" Angelo asked, before putting it back in his mouth.

"You look pretty like that," Logan replied. "Good boy. Keep doing that." Angelo blushed madly, while the redhead grinned. "Oh, you are just precious. You stay right there and keep sucking on it. Yes, _that's_ it."

"Mmmph!" Angelo blushed as he tried to sit up and get the lollipop out of his mouth, but Logan had a hand on the stick before he could say a word. The look in his eyes made Angelo remove his own hand, looking up at the dominating redhead standing over him.

"Angelo, I'm going to teach you about something you're going to get very used to with me." There was a twinkle in his eye. "Want me to show you?" Hesitantly, Angelo nodded. "Open your mouth, but don't move," Logan ordered. Blushing, Angelo opened his mouth, keeping his eyes screwed shut. "No, no, cutie, you're not getting out of this. Open your eyes. I want you to know it's me." Blushing even more, Angelo opened his eyes. "So cute. Now, hold still, sweetie." He got up, still holding onto the lollipop stick, and started moving it inside Angelo's mouth, slowly at first, but increasing in speed and force. His other hand gripped the back of Angelo's head, making him bob up and down. Logan got a particularly cruel idea, and decided to see if he could make the lollipop touch the back of Angelo's throat. "Oh, honey, I'm sorry," Logan apologised, when his boyfriend choked. "It's just . . . you look so cute when you gag." Angelo turned scarlet, while Logan snickered and kept going. "That's it . . . there you go. You're being so good. Such a good little toy. Hold on, what if I . . . make you gag more?" The lollipop was used to make Angelo gag, while Logan cooed and forced his boyfriend's chin upwards with the grip he had on his hair. "Aww." Angelo looked up at Logan with tears stinging his eyes, a product of the teasing Logan had been doing.

"Babe," he tried to say around the lollipop.

"It's because of the lollipop, isn't it?" Logan asked. Angelo nodded. "OK. I'll be gentler. And soon, I'll switch to something you like very much." The submissive boy with the lollipop in his mouth blushed as the redhead grinned and forced the lollipop back into a rhythm. "Cutie pie, aren't you used to doing a little sucking? Aww." A quiet gurgling came from Angelo, and Logan had pity. "You want a break?"

“Mmhmm."

"I'll give you a break, honey, I'm just checking on your body. I don't think I left enough hickeys on you last time," Logan cooed. "Good boy." Angelo started sucking on the sweet treat as Logan marked Angelo's body with all the hickeys he could possibly want and need. His hands began to wander, squeezing every part of his body that he could reach while whispering taunting lines in his ear about what he would love to do to Angelo. Angelo was kept quiet with the lollipop. "Cutie pie, you're mine, you know that? And soon, everyone will know that." He nipped at a sweet spot on his neck while forcing the lollipop deeper into Angelo's mouth, as the boy blushed, moaned and gargled all at once. "I love you, precious toy. Your voice, your smile, your laugh, your wonderfully weird mind." More love bites ended up on Angelo's neck as his throat was tortured, inside and out. Meanwhile, he felt a hand grip onto his ass. The blushing, squirming mess was straddled by the smaller boy, who was grinning to himself about how cute he was. That boy was all his.

"Mmmph," Angelo groaned, as his throat was roughly violated and his neck bruised with love bites. Logan looked down at Angelo, whose eyes were closed, and decided to tease him with the lollipop just a few more times. After all, he was _so_ cute.

"You're going to be a good boy for me and open wide," Logan told him. The boy nodded, and opened his mouth to accept the lollipop, which Logan decided to tease him with. The gargling was music to his ears. "Precious boy."

"Ugh," Angelo moaned. Logan sighed and simply let Angelo have the treat.

"Bye, little boy toy," Logan teased. "Cutie pie, I think I'll do this with you again soon. Now, how can I get out of your house without anyone noticing?"

"Try the back door," Angelo suggested. Logan tested the back door, and it was never locked. Logan grinned as he stepped one foot outside.

"Oh, Angelo, I forgot to say. Thank you for teaching me how to get into your house," he smirked. "Now, which one of these windows is the one for your bedroom?"

"That one," Angelo muttered, pointing upwards. Logan looked up at the window, nodded and grinned just before walking away. Angelo was left with a lollipop, hickeys on his neck and a serious case of stomach butterflies. He staggered back to the sofa and continued to suck on the lollipop. Once the lollipop had dissolved into nothing and the stick thrown away, he fell asleep, hickeys expertly covered up by a blanket.

"Hello, Angelo," Roselle greeted, as her son lay curled up on the sofa, crutches sprawled on the floor. "Angelo . . . are you purring? Like a cat?" The boy was still asleep, smiling as he wrapped his body around the blanket. "It's OK, Angelo. Keep sleeping." Angelo snuggled the blanket more, his mind filled with filthy dreams about Logan Dobson, his redheaded boyfriend.

* * *

Logan was at his own home, and he was daydreaming about what to do with his flustered, cuddly boyfriend. Dates, walks, staying over at his house while he relaxed right into his arms. Angelo always loved snuggling. They'd only ever hung out during the day, as their parents would probably never want to leave them alone at home together. Sighing, he threw himself onto the sofa and turned on the TV.

"Speaking of teenagers, Maxwell Norwood-Sykes, informant in the Angelo Riva abduction case, is applying for a retrial," a news anchor reported, sounding way too cheerful. "As of late, there has been no comment from the Riva family concerning the retrial. We tried to contact the father of the abducted boy, who dodged our cameras." Logan saw Mr Riva get into his car and drive away as fast as he could.

"Oh, Angelo," Logan sighed. "I pray that you don't ever watch the news." As the news turned to other subjects, Logan drifted off to sleep, Angelo's terrified face at the door being the last thing on his mind.

Because he'd be seeing it much more often.


	39. Help, media and other things that don't mix

_Sunday, July 21st_

* * *

Angelo had another nightmare that night, and the worst part of it was that it started off really good.

He was walking with Logan to the park, Pepsi in tow on a leash. His crutches were gone, and he was actually walking faster than both of them, meaning Logan had to jog to keep up. The boyfriends talked a mile a minute as they walked to the park, giggling as they chatted about how cute Pepsi was and how Logan wanted a dog of his own once he was older and moved out. They collapsed onto the floor, still giggling when Pepsi came over for belly rubs. "Finally, some peace and quiet," Logan sighed.

And that was when he came, still wearing the prison jumpsuit and handcuffs he had in the courtroom. Maxwell Norwood-Sykes, by some cruel twist of luck, was back for revenge.

"Angelo, I hate you! I HATE YOU!" Maxwell screamed, rushing towards him. Logan took Pepsi and ran. Angelo tried to get up, but he was too slow. Maxwell was getting closer, still screaming at his mortal enemy. "I HATE YOU!" He got closer and closer, the feral look in his eyes burning a hole in his very being.

Just as Maxwell got close enough to grab Angelo and take him away, he woke up.

He sat up in bed, terrified and gasping for air like he'd been smothered. Then the tears came, as the teenager lamented his life. Why did he have to be the one plagued with nightmares? He tried to calm himself down, but nothing worked. A quiet beep came from his wrist.

"Your heart rate indicated that you had had an anxiety attack." MAIA's voice was quiet, but there nonetheless. "Has that happened?"

"No, I had a nightmare," Angelo corrected. "I am fine, just . . . let me go back to sleep." MAIA wasn't going to let that slide.

"You are showing signs of distress, indicating that you are lying. Calling for a calming expert," MAIA ordered. Angelo was left confused, until he heard something that made his blood turn cold.

"Pepsi, play with Angelo!" Santo's voice called, at full volume. But it wasn't Santo, it was just a recording of his voice. Pepsi came running into Angelo's room out of nowhere, ready to give Angelo ticklish puppy kisses. He giggled and begged for mercy from the hyperactive dog, who just wanted to give him kisses, like he had been taught by Santo.

"Nonononono! Ahahahahaha! Pepsi!" Angelo begged, smothering his own giggles with a pillow. "Stop! Hahahahahahaha!" Pepsi refused to stop until Angelo was exhausted from holding in his own giggles for so long to avoid waking up his family. Eventually, he started petting the dog that had been such a menace to him earlier. "Don't tell anybody that I told you this, but I needed that," he whispered, his eyelids drooping.

Angelo could've sworn that he saw the Golden Retriever wink before he fell asleep.

* * *

Mirella smiled widely when she saw her older brother. He just looked at her with confusion.

"What's so funny?" he asked. "Do I have something on my face?"

"Yes," she nodded, still trying to hold back her smile. 

"What is it?" Angelo asked.

"Silly little hairs on your face," Mirella replied, before bursting out with laughter. Angelo was confused, and then it hit him.

"I have a moustache, don't I?" he asked. "Hold on." He rushed up the stairs as fast as he could to the bathroom, where he inspected his face for any signs. The disappointed boy concluded that he didn’t have any more than peach fuzz, collapsing onto his bed with a sigh. Letting his right leg cross over his left, he groaned. Pepsi ran into his room again, barking happily. "Aww, hey buddy," he greeted. "Thanks for helping me out last night." He snuggled the dog, not noticing a happy-sounding bleep from his watch. MAIA had done their job, and did it well.

"Angelo, you want crepes?" Roselle asked. Angelo shook his head, sighing a little. "Good boy. Could you come downstairs and help me?" He nodded, getting his crutches to go downstairs.

"It's been a while since we had pancakes," Angelo observed.

"These are crepes, Angelo."

"Dad says those are just thin French pancakes."

"Your dad says the tomato sauce on his pizza slice counts towards his five a day," Roselle replied, as she began mixing ingredients.

"Mum!" Angelo hissed, holding back a smile.

"You know it's true, boy." Angelo saw a smile on his mother's face. "Now, would you rather have blueberries or chocolate chips on top of yours?"

"Blueberries, please." Angelo requested. "This feels nice."

"You could use a few nice things." Angelo smiled when he heard that. He recoiled when a spoonful of pancake mix was waved in front of him. "Want some?"

"What?" Angelo asked. "No, thank you."

"That's a shame," Roselle sighed, scraping the mixture off the spoon and back into the bowl. "One disadvantage of raising a gifted child is that they don't fall for the same trick twice, which means pranks are out of the question."

"A disadvantage for you, maybe," Angelo replied. "I find it quite useful."

"Of course you do. You drove us insane thinking up loopholes for rules. From the moment you could string a sentence together." She thought back to when Angelo was four, trying to reason his way out of going to bed.

* * *

 _"But_ Mummy _," he whined._

_"Not another word, Angelo," his mother muttered. "You are going to bed. It's 10:00 at night. You should have gone four hours ago."_

_"Mamma, you're going to teach me how to be a good grown up - I mean adult, right?"_

_"Yes. . ." Roselle wasn't sure what to make of this, but she went along with it._

_"And adults stay up for as long as they like, right?"_

_“Yes. . ."_

_“Well, because I'm supposed to learn how to be a good adult, does that mean I can practice by staying up all night?"_

_"No," Roselle replied, giggling. "You're not even an adult yet."_

_"I am almost!"_

_"How old are you? Do you know how old?"_

_"Four!" He held up his left hand, with all but his thumb wiggling. "I'll be five next year."_

_"Yes, you will. Very good."_

_"And once I'm five, at least, I can do adult stuff like stay up all night."_

_"Five still isn't old enough, and four is definitely too young. Now go. To. Bed. Now." Roselle fixed him with the angry glare of a thousand exasperated mothers, and Angelo surrendered. But he still wanted to stick it to his mother._

_"Fine. But I'm not going to go to sleep. I'm going to stay awake and prove that I can be an adult."_

_"OK, Angelo." There was a knowing tone to her voice, like she knew he wouldn't last long._

_She was right._

_Angelo was asleep when his parents came to check up on him. “He said he was going to stay awake," Roselle muttered._

_"And the doctor said that we were expecting a girl. It’s not the first time we’ve been given the wrong information about him,” Bonaventura replied._

_"Fair point." They left, smirking at Angelo’s sleeping form._

* * *

"I wasn't any bother, was I?" Angelo asked. "When I was a kid?"

"Getting you what you needed to thrive was a bother. You were a well-behaved child, if a little mouthy."

"A little?" Angelo huffed.

"Fine, a lot," Roselle corrected, taking another crepe off the stove for her son. Angelo pouted playfully, taking the stack of crepes from her and putting blueberries on top.

"Mum, can I have some of the pancake mix?" Mirella asked. A smile stretched across Roselle's face as she offered a spoonful to her daughter. Mirella happily placed it into her mouth with a big smile on her face, which evaporated when she properly tasted it. She rushed over to the bin to spit it out, and then to the sink to get the taste out of her mouth.

"That one never gets old," Roselle replied, chuckling.

* * *

As Angelo ate, he was interrupted by a paw on his leg. "Hello, cutie," Angelo murmured. "Give me the puppy eyes all you want; I still can't give you these. You have your own food." He whined. "Stop doing that." He pawed at the boy's leg, whimpering. He eventually walked over to Mirella and pawed at her leg for food. "Don't give him anything from your plate; you'll get him sick," Angelo warned. Mirella nodded.

"I'm sorry, Pepsi, I can't," Mirella sighed. "I'll get you a treat. That will make you feel better." Pepsi happily went to the cupboard where dog treats were found, and Mirella took one for him. He ate it happily, licking her as she giggled. "Clever boy," she cooed, petting him. "I love you, Pepsi." A happy howl came out of his mouth, and she giggled.

"Mirella, don’t give him too many treats, he might get sick," Angelo chided.

"OK!" She went back to her breakfast, innocent in every possible way . . . at least, she seemed that way until she opened her mouth. "What did Logan do to your hair when we were gone?"

Angelo almost choked. "What?"

"You stay on your own a lot, and your hair is neat when we go," she observed. "And when we come back, your hair is messy. Was Logan wrestling with you?"

"Sort of," Angelo admitted, blushing.

"But he can't do that. You're not better yet. I'm going to kick him for hurting my big brother," Mirella pointed out, almost scolding him. Angelo looked down at his almost finished crepes. He took the final bite and decided to take his plate to the kitchen. But when he fumbled for one of his crutches, the plate slipped to the floor and smashed to pieces.

"What happened?" Angelo's mother poked her head into the living room, to find a broken plate and a son on the verge of tears.

"I'm sorry!" Angelo babbled, tears welling up.

"Oh, honey," she sighed. "It's OK. Just help me clean it up." As Roselle and Angelo cleaned up the shards of broken plate, she wondered just what had been done to Angelo to make him so skittish, and why he never told her about it.

"I'm sorry," Angelo muttered. A silent tear rolled down his cheek. "I'm not going to do it again."

"It's OK. I know you didn’t mean it," Roselle muttered.

"Angelo, are you OK?" Mirella asked. The boy wiped his face before answering, plastering on a fake smile to address his little sister.

"Yes, of course," Angelo replied. "I'm fine." Mirella didn't think twice about it, and quite frankly, Angelo wasn't sure what to think about that. He was just glad she didn't see him being weak again. He had to be her big brother, her hero.

"Angelo, you need to get changed," Roselle replied. "You have to get to an appointment. Your father's taking you."

"What appointment?" Angelo asked.

"You're going to see a professional who will . . . help you," Roselle wasn't sure how he would take it. Therapy could be a very taboo subject. Angelo just sighed. 

"OK."

* * *

The car ride was noiseless, with Angelo staring out of the window for most of it. He was terrified, but knew he had no right to be. He had to be tougher than that. It wasn't even going to last long, anyway. "Nervous?" the physics professor asked.

"Kind of. I’ve never been to a shrink,” Angelo admitted.

"Therapist, Angelo, therapist," Bonaventura stressed. "Not a shrink."

"Fine. Therapist. Whatever." Angelo toyed with the sleeve of his hoodie, only stopping once they went into a lobby, a maze of chairs before them. Angelo's father sat down with no problem. But when Angelo made his way to a chair, his crutches caught on a chair leg, making him trip and fall. "Ow!"

"Angelo, are you OK?" Bonaventura asked.

"It's fine, I don't need help with this," Angelo snapped, getting up on his own. "I can do this alone."

"Doesn't mean I'll let you. Now, we have a few minutes until the appointment, so just play some video games on your damn phone or something." Angelo didn't feel like playing games. He just stared at everything and nothing, feeling sick. What if he was laughed at? What if he was taken to an institution because he was crazy? What if there was nothing wrong with him and he was just scolded for wasting everyone’s time? What if-

"Angelo Riva to see Dr Redburn in room 5," the speaker announced.

“Do you want me in there?"

"I'll be fine," Angelo insisted, going over to the receptionist. "Excuse me, where is room 5?"

"Down the hall, to the left," the receptionist asked. He nodded, going right there. He knocked on the door.

"Come in," the female voice on the other end replied. "You must be my 10:45 appointment. Angelo Riva?"

"Yes, miss," Angelo replied, walking over to the empty chair facing the grey-haired lady in the room with him. "That's me."

"Noreen Redburn, pleasure to meet you. So, what seems to be bothering you?" the therapist asked.

"This is something my parents thought would be a good idea. They figured that I needed therapy after everything that's happened to me."

"And what's happened?" Her eyes bore a hole in his skull.

"It was in the news, all of it. I guess I should start at the beginning, when I was kidnapped. Kids like me were getting kidnapped, kids with genius IQs. I was the thirteenth and the last. They took me when I was eating pizza with my boyfriend, and shoved me into a van. Then they held a rag over my mouth. It smelled sickly sweet, and I passed out."

"Ah, you are involved in the New Wave of Intellect saga." The doctor looked at Angelo with recognition in her eyes. The boy's stomach flipped. She knew about it, too. Why, why, why, did she have to know about it too? Everyone in the entire world knows!

"When I came to, I was in front of this redheaded lady, and she seemed to be their leader. She said I would never get out of there. I would know too much. 'I hope you like your new home!' she said. I stayed in this little room with a tiny mattress, a bottle of water and a bucket. I think the bucket was for me to use as a toilet. When I was there, I found out that I could take photos with my watch and send them to my phone. I did that with everybody and everything and sabotaged it all. When I was left alone in my cell, or room, I'm not sure what to call it, I sent the police my location. The next morning, the police raided the place. The redheaded lady found out, somehow, that it was me who told them. She found me and put a gun to my head. She forced me into going into the room again, the one I had to sleep in, and locked the door. The door was busted in by a big guy, the biggest person I've ever seen, and he punched and kicked me, and then he kicked my leg. It hurt so much. I remember screaming with pain. Two police officers came and arrested him, and I was taken away to a hospital, but I passed out on the way."

"What happened next?" Dr Redburn asked.

"I was in hospital for a few days, and my boyfriend was there. He told me about how it was on the news, and people were calling me a hero. While I was there, people visited me with gifts, and I got a hero's welcome when I got back to school. People wanted to see me. I got overloaded from all the noise and lights and went to a bathroom."

"Do you get overloaded often?" the older woman asked.

"Not often, just when I'm somewhere loud with lots of people. It stresses me out." Angelo rubbed his shoulder. "I'm worried I might do something wrong and they'll all laugh at me. But let’s not talk about that."

"If you insist," Noreen replied. She could see several things to be concerned about already, possible conditions floating around in her head. "Now, back to the kidnapping."

"Later that day, I was sitting out from PE, since I couldn't possibly attend, and this boy was sitting next to me. He was called Maxwell, and he didn't like me very much. When we met at school for the first time, we disagreed on just about everything. It was about halfway through the lesson when two police officers came. They asked for Maxwell, and he went with them. I remember everyone was staring as they talked to him for a few seconds. Well, it felt like seconds. Next thing I know, he's being arrested and he's crying and people are booing as he's being taken away. Later on, I hear that he's been arrested on suspicion of supplying my kidnappers with the information they need to kidnap me. Also, the media descended onto the town that I now live in by order of the police for our own safety. It was decided that in lieu of a fake name, I would just be hidden in plain sight. But I'm not hidden in plain sight any more, I am easy to see. Media people were outside my house and my school, and they were shouting questions. My name never seemed to be out of the news, because there was always another development. Some rich guy was arrested in connection to the case, and then another rich guy, and then someone who apparently had ties to the mafia and paid a sum of money to make sure they could keep doing mafia stuff once they took over. It was a relief when I found out that they would be pleading guilty, because I wouldn't have to see them again."

"Has there been anything that's happened recently with regards to this and . . . your life that's really affected you?" Noreen leaned forward, looking Angelo in the eyes.

"I was there at Maxwell's trial. I went to give my victim impact statement in person. I just . . . wanted to face him. When the judge gave the verdict of guilty, he went insane. He said that he couldn't go to jail because he was a kid and he'd die, and just when he was taken away, he said these words. 'Angelo, I hate you! I HATE YOU!' Then he was dragged away by two police officers. I had a nightmare just last night about this."

"And just what happened in that nightmare?"

"I was walking with my boyfriend and my dog in the park. I didn't have crutches, and we were just talking. I don't remember what, though. Pepsi came over for belly rubs and we just gave them to him. And then Maxwell came. He was wearing the same jumpsuit he had in the trial, and he was angry. Really angry. He ran towards me, screaming 'I HATE YOU!' Logan took Pepsi and ran off. I was left alone with him, and he was getting closer. Just before he got a hold of me, I woke up."

"Did you have any other nightmares?"

"I once had a nightmare that I was back in the room where it happened, with the man that broke my leg. He beat me up in the dream like he did in real life. My dad woke me up later. I just cried for ages. In the morning, my little sister gave me a bracelet she made. She said, 'It's OK. I have bad dreams before, just like you. Will this make you feel better?' And she gave it to me. And I took it." He teared up, thinking of his innocent little sister as he looked at the makeshift bracelet on his wrist.

"Has your family been supportive of you?"

"Well, my dad did his best to comfort me when I had a nightmare. My mother was the first one I heard talking about therapy." Angelo didn't dare look at Noreen. "I think I'm too demanding on them. I always need so much. They always have to go to such trouble to get me things. That's the reason I'm here, I reckon. They always pay for my stuff. I feel like a burden."

"I see," Noreen replied, writing stuff down on a notepad. "And how does that make you feel?"

"Ashamed, disgusted, dependent, useless, a leech, a wimp. I should be doing this myself, not them. They've done and put up with so much for me. I can't do this to them, too. What if they end up bankrupt from paying for all this extra stuff?" The floodgates opened and he started sobbing. "Why do I have to be such a burden? My parents are getting chased by reporters at their work. What if they get fired? It'll be all my fault!"

"Shh. It's OK. Let it out. This is a healthy release of pent-up feelings. You clearly needed this more than you thought you did." She gave him a tissue, which he used to dry his eyes and blow his nose. He gripped onto it, holding it tightly in his fist. "Now, just how long have you had such feelings of being a burden?"

"Ever since I was admitted to the private boarding school that my parents enrolled me into, when I was seven. We were told that this school would allow me to have the best opportunities in life and let me thrive as a mentally gifted child. Because I would get the best opportunities, I just put up with everything that happened to me: the bullying, the blatant favouritism towards students that paid their way, the mockery of students depending on the scholarship that they qualified for, everything. It would make my parents proud and I would get the education and qualifications I would need to go on to university early, which was better. Everyone there was more mature, but making friends was still hard because everyone was out of my age range."

"Angelo, has making friends been easier for you now you are going to a new school?" Noreen asked.

"Yes. It's much nicer than my last school. People there actually like me. Or at least, I think they do. Sometimes I worry that I'm too much of a nerd and people secretly think I'm a loser." Angelo let out a sigh. He hated the old days of private school, the taunting of the other students. The names he had been branded with came flooding back: Anxious Angelo, Robot Boy, Robot Freak. They all swirled in his head like a turd in a toilet.

"You said you met Maxwell at school. What was he like?" Noreen scanned Angelo for tension. If anything, he seemed relieved. 

"I hated him. Not at first, he just seemed. . . snobbish. Like he could be talking to way better people than Logan and I. It slowly got worse and worse, with the things he said becoming more pointed. He pushed me out of a good spot in the changing room, and outright called me useless."

"Angelo, did you ever see Maxwell in your nightmares before the court hearing?" Dr Redburn asked. Angelo shook his head. The professional glanced at her watch. 11:45. Their time was up.

"Angelo, it appears that our time's up. I would like to leave you with some calming advice: every time you feel on the verge of panicking, remove yourself from the situation and count to a hundred." The boy nodded before going. "Goodbye, Angelo."

"Goodbye, madam." Angelo said as a reflex, stopping for a split second. His father greeted him with open arms, ruffling his hair.

"How was it, honey?" he asked. Angelo let out a sigh.

"It felt good to talk to someone, but I don't feel like I got any advice that I hadn't heard before," the teen admitted.

"Will you be willing to go to another therapy session?" Bonaventura asked. Angelo nodded. "Good. Come on." Angelo went with his father, just a little less scared. "We'll be stopping to get shopping on the way to get home. Want anything?"

"We have pizza at home, right?"

"No."

"Pizza."

"I'm not getting pizza."

"Did Mum call you fat again?"

"Hey!" Angelo giggled. "Seriously, kid, do you want anything?"

"Double chocolate cookies?" The boy looked at his father with hope in his eyes. 

"Fine." They got out of the car and started walking to the shop. Angelo looked almost happy. "What kind did you say you wanted again? Double chocolate?" Angelo was about to open his mouth, but then the media descended.

"Mr Riva, a few questions?" one asked, shoving a camera in his face. Angelo froze. "What about you, Angelo? Care to say something?" All the anger Angelo had towards the people hounding his parents snapped. He became cold, glaring at the reporters.

"What is wrong with you all? Can't I go shopping with my father in peace?" Angelo snapped. "In fact, can I do anything in peace? You media people seem to be everywhere, invading parts of my life that I honestly thought was private. No matter where I go, I fear that I find yet another person with a camera screaming questions. Now is not the time. Someday, when I am good and ready to talk, I will sit down to talk about what happened and my thoughts about it. But that day is not today. Today, I just want cookies and a nap. Now, if you'll excuse us." Angelo went into the store, not caring that people stared at him. "I'm sorry, Dad."

"No. Just no. You have no reason to apologize and I am so proud of you for standing up to them."

Angelo just smiled. "Thank you."

* * *

They arrived home to an empty house. It was strange . . . but in a good way. "Nobody's home?" Angelo asked. As if on cue, Pepsi rushed over, smiling happily and wagging his tail at the sight of him. "So, you're here? Yes! Come here, big puppy!” Pepsi rushed over, licking him. "Hahahaha!"

"Giggly baby," Bonaventura teased. "You like this, huh?"

"Daaaad!" Angelo whined, giggling. "Pepsi, off!" He was such a squirming mess, a wobbly smile on his face and snickers falling out of his mouth. 

"Honestly, so cute," Bonaventura replied. "Angelo, it's like back when you were little!"

"Hey!"

"Oh, come here!” The giggling boy was dragged closer to his father, whose fingers dove into his ribs and stomach. Angelo squealed and giggled, begging madly. "Honestly, you look precious. Now hold still!"

"Bahahahahahahahaha! Stop thahahahat, plehehehease!" Angelo begged.

"Angelo, it's OK! I'll keep you nice, safe and happy," Bonaventura cooed, as his fingers worked even faster on his son's ribcage. Angelo squealed, blushing madly.

"No more, please!" Angelo begged. The fun look on his face was gone, replaced with desperation. He'd have to quit his fun there.

"Angelo, my baby boy," he cooed. "That's it." Angelo sighed, blushing as he fell asleep. This was annoying, but plenty thought it was adorable. "Precious boy. Go to sleep now." Angelo's head spun, before his world slowly slipped into black.

* * *

At home, Logan sat on the sofa, jaw on the floor as he watched the inventor blow up in front of media reporters. He could only imagine the comments Angelo would get for it later. "Sweet baby boy," Logan sighed. "I'm so proud."

"The relationship between Angelo Riva and our crew isn't looking good," a news anchor chirped.

"And worried."


	40. Reassurance and comfort

_Monday, July 22nd_

* * *

School was rough for the genius when Monday came around. A big, black cloud that was hanging over his head, and nobody quite knew what to do or how to act around him. Logan did his best to help him, but he could only do so much. Some things were just . . . out of his control.

"Angelo, the teacher wants to talk to you," Logan whispered. Angelo looked at the board, seeing a sea of quotations on the board, jumbled together.

"I can see a bunch of words on the board, which I recognize a little. What do you want me to do with them?" He winced at the board, sighing.

"Angelo, give the class a brief example of how Macbeth's character changes as the play progresses," the English teacher instructed.

"He goes from being a noble warrior to an amoral king that is killed by another noble warrior," Angelo pointed out.

"Very good," the teacher replied, writing his answer on the board. Angelo sighed and let his head rest on the table.

"Make it stop," he groaned. "Under no circumstances do I want to be here."

"You seem stressed. Wanna talk?" Logan asked. "We can meet at my place after school. Just us, I promise."

"OK," Angelo replied. "I'd like to talk to you. I got these . . . messages. I don't like them. You know how to use Instagram; how do you stop it?"

"Give it to me at break." He petted Angelo's head, cooing at him when he reddened. He let his hand slip down to Angelo's thigh.

"Would you . . . talk to me about another thing?" Angelo asked.

"Yes," Logan agreed. "But you'll have to wait until break."

Angelo pouted. "Fine."

* * *

During break, making sure that they were alone and couldn't be seen or heard, Angelo handed over his phone to Logan, who was appalled. "You got sent . . . those?" Logan asked, feeling sick. _My poor baby boy needs my help,_ he thought.

"Yes. Help me, please," Angelo whimpered. Logan looked at him and wanted to just hold him. "Oh, god. This is awful."

"I just want it to go," Angelo whimpered. "I don't want to see it again. Logan, please help me! You know how Instagram works!" Logan tapped on one of the videos and went right to the comments.

"You know what? You won't need to," Logan replied. "I can see the comments on them, and they're all in your favour." Angelo looked at the first one and gasped.

_How dare you? Hasn't he suffered enough?_

_You are a creep and should be in jail_

_Angelo Riva is a hero. You are a worthless bitch cradle-robbing online. He is 15. Your insta bio says you are 22. You are a paedophilic creepy bitch. I hope you get curb-stomped with a sledgehammer._

_You ain't shit, but go off_

_"Hey, Angelo, if you're watching and you want to hook up with a hot blonde, call me!" Angelo's still recovering from being kidnapped and having his leg broken. Maybe he doesn't need to hook up with a blonde slut that isn't even hot, but I'm just spit-balling._

"Angelo, these people want to defend you," he whispered. "I'll delete it from your inbox, but I can't delete it from Instagram."

"OK. I also want to talk to you about Saturday," Angelo muttered. Logan looked at him with a grin, eyeing up his boyfriend's body.

"What part? The part when I got you a lollipop to suck on like a good little boy?" Logan taunted. He expected Angelo to squirm in his seat and blush, but he didn't.

"Yeah," Angelo confirmed, staring Logan in the eye. "When you got me that lollipop and made me suck on it and held me by my hair, why did you do that?" All the cockiness Logan exuded seemed to evaporate, leaving behind a shy, uncertain redhead, squirming at the thought of making out.

"I . . . I thought you would like it if I did that because . . ." His voice trailed off. Angelo raised an eyebrow.

"Because what?"

"Because . . . I would like it if someone did that to me," Logan admitted, his hair and face now the same hue of dark red. "I'm sorry. Don't get mad."

"Mad?" Angelo chuckled. "I'm not mad at the little boy in front of me, I want to tease him. I want to play with him and keep him as a little toy." Logan shifted from foot to foot, looking at the floor because it meant not looking at Angelo's eyes. "Aww, so cute. Come here."

"OK," Logan whimpered, walking over to Angelo. "What are you going to do?"

"Just . . . everything you did to me." Angelo giggled at Logan's submissive stature. "Come over to my house and stay with me. You said you wanted all that stuff to happen to you. You want all that stuff, huh?"

"Yes," the redhead whined.

"Good boy," Angelo purred, watching as Logan squirmed and fidgeted. "My good little boy."

* * *

_Fast forward to the end of the school day_

Angelo grinned at Logan as he walked home with him. The squirmy little boy knew exactly what was going to happen to him, and as embarrassed as he was . . . he wanted it so badly. He wanted his sweet shy boyfriend to take him as a little plaything. "Wanna go upstairs?" Angelo asked.

"Yes," Logan replied, whimpering. "Just . . . I don't want sex. I'm just not ready."

"Of course I won't, honey, and I'm not ready either," Angelo sighed. "Now, get a banana from the kitchen and come on." They walked over to his bedroom, sat down, and started snuggling. The banana was left on the end of the bed.

"What do you need the banana for?" Logan asked.

"Shush, little toy," Angelo insisted. "You can have it later." Logan squealed, blushing madly and squirming in his boyfriend's arms.

"What do you mean?"

"Remember what you did to me with the lollipop, Logan?" Angelo grinned as Logan whined, getting closer. "You want that, cutie?"

Logan nodded, feeling tiny. "Yes. Please, just do what you want. I'm yours."

"Open your mouth," Angelo insisted. Logan whimpered, opening his mouth as far as it could go. "Now who's going to get used to sucking?"

"I am." That was the last thing the redhead said before the banana was shoved into his mouth. Angelo's hand grabbed onto a fistful of red hair. "Mmmph! Nmmmp! Mmm . . . mmmm." The boy's muffled yelps became small, satisfied moans of pleasure. The inventor grinned sadistically.

"So cute. I knew you'd love this, precious," Angelo cooed. "Now, do you want me to keep going? More?" Logan nodded, his mouth half-full with the banana. "Fine."

"MMMMPH!" Logan coughed as he felt the banana touch the back of his throat.

"That's it . . . good boy," Angelo taunted. "What, not saying anything? I thought you'd have something to say? You were always so vocal before." Logan decided to try to impress Angelo by sucking on the banana harder. "Oh, I knew you were a desperate, perverted little baby boy." The redhead gagged when Angelo shoved the fruit into him harder. "Remember this? You did this to me with the lollipop and you thought it was cute. Well, this is adorable." Angelo grinned at him, his hand holding onto his hair tighter. Logan's blue eyes welled up with tears from gagging and being choked. "More?" Angelo taunted. Logan nodded, cheeks darkening. "Fine." The banana touched the back of his throat, and he gagged almost non-stop. Angelo moved the yellow fruit in and out of the boy's mouth, bringing the boy almost to insanity from pleasure. "Is this all you want to be good for? Something bigger boys can use as a little toy for whatever they want? I should have known you wanted this. I bet you are going to dream about me for weeks, aren't you?"

"Mmhmm," Logan whimpered.

"Good boy," Angelo cooed. "I knew this is what you should be doing. You'll get used to sucking on things in no time. Oh, and Logan . . . look down." Logan looked down at himself and saw that he was sporting a raging boner. His face turned red and screwed his eyes shut, trying not to look down at his crotch. "Daww, you look so cute when you're flustered and embarrassed. Come here." Logan was scooped up into his arms, and the scrawny redhead moaned. "You love this, don't you? Want this forever?" His hand snuck under his boyfriend's shirt, looking at Logan as the cartoonist blushed. "Want to get rid of the shirt?"

"Mmhmm." Logan whined as he was forced to take the phallic fruit out of his mouth. He'd have to if he wanted to to remove his shirt. He wanted to feel it in his mouth. It felt good . . . really good. The moment it was off, he put it back in, blushing at the feeling and sight of himself. He was a little toy now, something that was used by bigger boys and loved every second of it.

"You're so cute and tiny, but such a brat," Angelo teased. "How do you feel about being a cute, bratty little toy for me, Logan? A cute little toy, nothing more." This made Logan let out a long, muffled moan. "You feel good?" Logan whimpered, his eyes rolling back into his head. It just felt so good and he wanted so much more. He nodded frantically, squirming in Angelo's arms. Tears of pleasure formed at the corners of his eyes. The banana slipped out of his mouth, with nothing gagging him any more.

"I'm yours," he groaned.

"Yes, that's it. You're mine," Angelo grinned. "But you don't look like you belong to anyone. Want that to be fixed?"

"Yes, please, I want - MMMM!" The banana was jammed back into his mouth. Angelo grinned as the whimpers grew louder.

"That's enough out of you," Angelo snapped, as hickeys landed on his neck and his chest. A hand rubbed the inside of the redhead's thigh. Logan felt his head spin, and Angelo stopped it there, looking down at his handiwork and grinned. His little toy was all out of energy. Shushing the dazed teen, he took the fruit away and started rubbing the boy's back. "Good boy. You did so well."

"It felt so good," Logan whimpered. "Angelo, I want this more."

"Of course you do," Angelo taunted. "You're such a little brat, putting me on the bottom because I couldn't do anything about it. But look at you, whimpering and choking on something you should be good at."

"Good at?!" Logan was shocked.

"You teased me about it so much when I gagged. I thought you were . . . you know . . . experienced." Logan could tell Angelo was joking, but it didn't stop him from whimpering. That damn boy had him wrapped around his little finger, even when he was on crutches.

"Angelo, we're home!" Roselle called. "Where are you?"

"I'm upstairs!" Angelo called. "But don't come in! I'm - I'm changing!" Angelo gave Logan just enough time to put on his shirt and escape out of the window. Scaling the walls, he jumped the garden fence and ran home. Once he was gone, Angelo got changed for real. Upon coming out of his room, he was met by the cutest, tiniest five-year-old ever.

"Can you read this to me?" Mirella asked. She grabbed a copy of _Matilda_ from Angelo's bookshelf.

"That's a nice book, but a bit big for you," Angelo pointed out. "Are you sure you want to?"

"We finished _Harry Potter_ ," Mirella asked.

"You're right, we did," Angelo admitted. "Want to start at chapter 1?"

"Yes, please," Mirella pleaded. Angelo opened up the book, skipping past the map to go right to the story. "It's a funny thing about mothers and fathers. Even when their child is the most disgusting little blister you could ever imagine, they still think that he or she is wonderful . . ." The two became lost in a fictional world that consisted of the Wormwoods, the kindly Miss Honey, the despicable headmistress Agatha Trunchbull, the Chokey, chocolate cake and telekinesis.

"Kids, do you . . ." Roselle's voice trailed off when she saw her children look up from the book and stare at her.

"Let us finish the chapter, please," Angelo begged.

"Lunch. NOW," she ordered. Sighing, they got up and left the blizzard of pink that was Mirella's room. "The pasta's getting cold."

"Si, _Mamma_ (1)," they chorused.

"Good kids," Roselle smiled. The kids ate, and halfway through his meal, the phone rang. "I'll get it," the mother reassured. When she picked up, she heard her eldest son's voice.

" _Mamma!_ Oh, God, I'm so glad to hear from you! How are you?"

"Oh, Santo! _Mio bambino_ (2)!" Roselle cooed. Santo's navy friends chuckled as the man blushed. "How are you?"

"Good," Santo sighed. "Where's Angelo?"

"I'll get him. Angelo!" Roselle screamed.

"Coming!" Angelo called. "Thank you, _Mamma_." He hugged her, took the phone from her and sat down. "Santo! I missed you!"

"I missed you too, little smartass!" Santo cooed. "I wish I could come home right so I can wrestle with you again!"

"Santo, you know I can't wrestle you. My leg is still healing," Angelo sighed.

"Aww, that's a shame. Anyway, I called to say that I'm so proud of you for messing with those reporters. I'm so proud of you," Santo sighed.

"Yeah, he keeps babbling about how you're his little brother and you're so smart," one fellow naval officer butted in.

"He did?" Angelo asked.

"Hey, leave me alone! I'm trying to talk to my little brother!" Santo snapped. "Sorry about that, bro."

"It's OK," Angelo sighed. "What did you want to say?"

"I just wanted to say that I'm so proud of my genius baby brother. It seems like so long ago when you were a little kid and babbling about flying cars and motorbikes because you read about it in _Harry Potter_. So long ago. Anyway, bro, you think you'll get back to inventing eventually?"

"I'm not sure," Angelo admitted, blushing. "Got some stuff to get through."

"Let me know how I can help. I love you, little bro. Now, go and get Mirella. I wanna talk to her privately."

"OK. Love you, bro." He left the room to go get his little sister. Mirella rushed over to the phone.

"Hi, Santo!" Mirella babbled. "What next?"

"Shh, keep your voice down so Angelo can't hear you!" Santo insisted. "You remember the plan?"

"When Angelo gets sad, I get Pepsi to play with him or I ask him to do something with me. If it doesn't work, get Mamma. I remember, Santo," Mirella sighed.

"Good girl. Now be good, and be nice to Angelo. He really needs it right now," Santo sighed. "Got that, sweetie? I love you so much."

"I love you too, Santo," Mirella chirped.

"I've got to go now. Bye!" Santo cooed, putting the phone down. Mirella grinned, going over to her adoptive brother and the family dog.

"Angelo, wanna read more to me later?" Mirella asked.

"OK," he agreed, distracted from his troubles. As he picked up the book and started to read to her, and he once again, slipped into the fantasy world crafted by Roald Dahl. One thought stayed in her mind before she, too, descended into a new world of another person's design.

_I'm helping my big brother._

* * *

Meanwhile, at his house, Logan was at home, unable to sleep as he dreamed about what Angelo did with him. It just felt so good, like a release. Occasionally, he would rub the hickeys on his stomach and neck, feeling the same way he did now that he had when he was in Angelo's room. He forced down a whine when he thought about what he wanted Angelo to do to him.

"Oh my God," he muttered.

* * *

Translations

1: Yes, Mum. Italian.

2: My baby. Italian.


	41. New rules, new sights, new routines

_Tuesday, July 23rd_

* * *

_Blackwater Institution for Young Offenders, 4:40 PM_

Maxwell sat in jail, his crying going unheard by everyone. "Let me out!" he wailed.

"You're nowhere near your release date," a guard replied. "Not sick, not mentally ill, and not a risk to other prisoners. Norwood-Sykes, you're staying here."

"This other guy called Kane is picking on me! I want to go somewhere else, to another prison!" Maxwell pleaded. "He wants me to call him sir!"

"Well, I'll see what I can do," the guard replied, leaving to take a break. Maxwell cried, feeling hopeless. A second guard came over five minutes later to give the imprisoned brat a message.

"Hey, kid. Phone call for you. It's your parents," she said, escorting him out to the prison phone booths. He picked up the phone and simply deflated with relief.

"Mum! Dad!" Maxwell choked out, before sobbing hysterically. "Get me out of here!"

"Yes . . . about that . . ." Candi muttered. "There's been a . . . development."

"The appeal for you was denied. Not only was it denied, but it was decided that you can't leave early unless it's for good behaviour," Sean sighed. "I'll file one again as soon as I can."

"You have to, Dad! Otherwise I'll never get out of here!" Maxwell just cried more and more, snivelling into the phone and blowing his nose with a forgotten box of tissues. "I hate it here! The other boys in here like picking on me!"

"We'll do everything we can, my sweet, precious, adorable little Maxie," his mother promised, sending a loud, wet kiss down the end of the phone. Maxwell recoiled with disgust, hurriedly holding the phone away from his ear. He had always hated how his mother kissed him, all slobbery and loud and slurping at his face. It brought back memories he didn't want bringing back, of teasing from his classmates as his mother kissed him in front of the gates before school, of him furiously wiping the mix of saliva and ruby red lipstick off his face in the toilet sink in front of the mirror, of the muffled giggles others had as they looked at the botched job he'd done of cleaning himself up.

"Come on. You have to get back to your cell. It'll be time for you to go outside for recreation time soon," the female guard chided.

"Don't want to go outside," Maxwell whined. "I already have to go to special prison school with them; I don't want to have to go outside with them, too."

"I don't have a choice in the matter," the guard said, looking sympathetic. Maxwell sighed and left, finding a place to hide from the other kids. He found a tunnel, just big enough for him but too small for anyone else, and crawled into it. When he got in, he sniffled quietly. If he'd known that getting rid of Angelo Riva would cost him everything he loved, he would never have done it.

* * *

Meanwhile, Logan and Angelo were walking around town. Angelo never did get to see all of Willowdale. "And there is the local cinema, and there's the pound store, and that's the local coffee shop that you love so much." Logan narrated everything they walked past, and Angelo just loved going outside. The click of his crutches on pavement sounded almost jaunty as he made sure to keep up with the redhead.

"I love this little place. It's so pretty," Angelo sighed.

"I know," Logan cooed. They smiled at each other, giggling. "Want to go to the library?" They went into the library and sat down in some comfy armchairs. It wasn't too populated; there were two old ladies talking at the back, a woman with a toddler reading a picture book together and a few teenage girls having some sort of revision study session.

"This feels nice," Angelo sighed, relaxing into the chair. "Reminds me of our first kiss."

"I remember that," Logan teased. "You were so good."

"I-I was?" Angelo was so flustered, and Logan looked at him with feral, hungry eyes. Angelo looked cute . . . too cute. "Logan, why are you looking at me like tha-"

"Hush now, cutie," Logan cooed. "You stay quiet for me."

"Yes, Logan," Angelo whimpered. Logan patted his shoulder. He kept his hands to himself from then on, but he knew that every time he looked at Angelo, the genius blushed. Eventually, he got himself a book to read, and absorbed himself into the fictional world. But it wouldn't last. He'd been noticed by the girls.

"Would you like a bookmark?" one of the girls asked. Her mousy brown hair, with a burst of bright green at the ends, was tied back into a fishtail braid. She gave him a library-issued paper bookmark from the desk, which just seemed off, despite its unassuming appearance.

"Um . . . OK," Angelo agreed, taking the bookmark. He slotted the bookmark into the back of his book and continued reading. The girls whispered a little louder, looking over at him every once in a while. Logan was shocked at how his boyfriend was so oblivious at times.

"Angelo, don't you know what happened?" the redhead hissed.

"I . . . got a bookmark from a girl?" Angelo asked.

"She wrote her number on it! She's using it to flirt with you!"

Angelo checked on the back of the bookmark, and his boyfriend was right. A row of digits was written on the back, muffled squealing coming from the table of girls as he read it. "What do I do with it?"

"Allow me, baby boy. Just relax and keep quiet. It's a library; you know you can't be loud in here." Angelo felt his mouth being covered by a small hand, the other hand embracing the small of his back and letting it go lower. "Who's a good boy?" he whispered.

"I am, Logan," Angelo whispered. "I'm-"

"Shut it," Logan hissed. "Let me show them that you're mine." The neck was targeted and he just . . . submitted. "Angelo, aren't you my good boy?"

"Yes."

"Freaks." The girls refused to look at them, turning their backs on them in disgust. Logan took Angelo's little neck and decided to make him his little toy, listening to him whimper and whine.

"Good boy," he cooed. "Such a good little boy. Likes being on top, hmm? Likes being a big, strong man? But look how easy I can do this to you. You are such a cute little brat, thinking that you'll always be on top of me. Are you a brat?" A dark red, blotchy hickey appeared on Angelo's neck, and he felt himself coo and purr. His mind was clouded with desire.

"I'm a brat. I'm a little brat."

"I'm taking you back home now. Aren't you a cute toy?" Logan mocked. Angelo whimpered, squirming. He nodded. "Good boy," he whispered. "Here are your crutches. I'm taking you home." The blushing nerd went home with the grinning cartoonist, who shot a smug grin towards the shocked girls before leaving the library. The hands were back on the Italian's body, listening to Angelo's whines all the way home.

"Logan," he whined. "Do you have to keep calling me a good boy?"

"But you are a good boy," Logan taunted. "Most of the time, anyway. The rest of the time, you're a brat. A brat that needs to be taught a lesson. Up in my room, with nobody able to help you."

"Logan!"

"What?" Logan cooed, a knowing smirk on his face. "I was in your room, and nobody knew about it. I should be allowed to keep a cute boy in my room, all nice and quiet and cute." Angelo felt his knees get weak, but he forced himself upright.

"Do what you want with me," he pleaded. "I can be a good boy."

"You promise?" Logan asked. Angelo nodded. "Good. Now I'm going to take you home, and if your parents are home, it's lucky for you. If they aren't, it's lucky for us." He knocked on the door and waited for the boy's parents to come and take him in. They were answered by the boy's five-year-old sister.

"Hello, Angelo. Hello, Logan. _Mamma_ (1) and _Papa_ (2) are at work," Mirella replied.

"Good girl. Thank you for telling me," Angelo cooed, leaning in to his little sister to hug her. "Come on, Logan. Upstairs."

"Of course, Angelo. I have to do a few things with you." Logan grinned and Angelo blushed as he was dragged over to his room. "You. Shirt. Off."

"Yes, Logan," Angelo muttered, taking his shirt off and placing it to the side. Angelo felt Logan pin him down for more love bites, his back pressed against the cold sheets of his bed. The hickeys stopped temporarily to feel up his body, and the genius moaned. He noticed Logan reaching over for a blanket, and he felt confused. "Logan, why are you covering us up with that blanket?"

"Because the only thing you should have covering your body up when we're alone is this blanket," Logan smiled. He threw the blanket over them and teased Angelo's jeans off him, throwing it into a corner of the bedroom along with his own. Angelo was gagged with his own discarded shirt, all while Logan grabbed his ass and grinned at him. Angelo was bright red, not daring to look at Logan as he was toyed with. He felt himself being pinned down by a grinning boyfriend climbing his body. Angelo felt intense shame as his body betrayed how he felt about him.

"Mmmph! Nnnnnn! MMMMM!"

"Those girls made me so mad. They should have known that you were mine. So I'll have to mark you up with all of these hickeys, huh?" Logan cooed. "So you know you're mine. So everyone who sees you knows you're mine. Want more, baby boy?"

"Mmhmm." Angelo's chest was becoming littered in hickeys and bite marks. He groaned as he felt his groin being grasped by a slender hand. The flustered nerd felt hands travel over his body, pinching and groping him.

"Don't move, bratty boy," Logan commanded. "I need to give you more. You don't have enough hickeys, do you?" Knowing Angelo couldn't answer him, Logan went from being gentle to rough. Very rough. The muffled whimpers were music to Logan's ears. Grabbing his body, whispering filthy things in his ear, biting down on already bruised skin. His body was pinned down for more intoxicating kisses. Angelo whimpered as his hands were held behind his back to stop them from moving too hard.

"Mmmp! Mmmm!" Angelo groaned, becoming limp in Logan's arms.

"That's it, toy. It's over now. I'm so proud of you," Logan whispered. "Just look at you. All covered in love bites. My love bites." Angelo whimpered, blushing madly. He loved everything about him and this. "Oh, don't get me wrong, you won't always be on the bottom. But I know you would much rather be on the bottom so I could play with you."

"I really don't mind being top or bottom," Angelo muttered. "So long as it feels good."

"Of course, honeybunch," Logan cooed, grabbing his clothes to put on and kissing Angelo's lips goodbye. "I need to go use your bathroom." Logan pulled on his shirt and went into their bathroom, washing his face and combing his hair with what had to be Angelo's father's comb. Shirt tucked in? Check. Hair as immaculate as he could get it? Check. Fly done up? Check. Logan left the bathroom and took Angelo (who was now dressed) downstairs, so nobody suspected anything. The embarrassed boy snuggled under a blanket and watched TV, trying not to squeal as Logan sat down next to him and a hand rubbed his inner thigh.

"Logan!" Angelo hissed. "What are you doing?"

"Playing it safe," Logan cooed. "Too much?"

"I'm fine."

"That's it. Good boy." A sharp squeeze to Angelo's groin made him gasp, and Logan grinned. "I have to go. See you." A long, slow kiss was shared between them, and then Logan left. Angelo was as dishevelled as Logan was put together: shirt untucked and buttons not done, fly half-done, hair a mess, and hickey-covered neck exposed.

"Angelo, Mirella, we're home!" Roselle cooed. "Were you two good? Angelo, did Logan come over?"

"Yeah, but he had to go home," Angelo replied. "His mother was worried about him." Bonaventura noticed that his son's neck was littered with love bites.

"Ah. Of course." Angelo's father pretended that he wasn't bothered by it and started making pasta. Meatballs and tomato sauce, just the way both of them liked it. They could all use it.

"Thanks, Dad," Angelo muttered.

"Thank you, _Papa_ ," Mirella chirped.

"So glad I learned how to make this before I left home," Bonaventura sighed.

"Angelo and Mirella seem so happy," Roselle muttered.

"Let's hope it stays that way," the father muttered. The siblings had stopped eating now, their plates scraped clean of food and deposited into the sink.

"I'm a big, boring grown-up. I'm going to watch TV," Mirella exclaimed, in a deep but childish voice. She then took the remote and turned it to the news.

"This just in: the appeal for Maxwell Norwood-Sykes to get a retrial has been denied," a reporter chirped. "The teenager pictured here is the reason Angelo Riva got kidnapped in the first place, as he gave the gang details of which school the genius went to and a photo description. The gang used this to wait for Angelo to come out of school, stalk him and eventually ambush the gifted teen as he ate in a pizzeria." Mirella recognized him, and blurted it out to their parents.

"That's the boy from the café!" she squealed. "He came over to us and said Angelo was the inventor kid at his school! Angelo's friend was mean to him and made him go away! I don't want him to go away again!" She rushed over to Angelo and hugged him.

"I don't want to go away again either," Angelo sighed, holding Mirella close. "I didn't like it there."

"I'm going to make sure you're not going. You're in my room forever now," Mirella told him.

"What?!"

"I have to make sure you won't go away," she explained.

"I can't stay in your room. You need your own room," Angelo explained.

"Speaking of rooms, you two need to go to bed," their mother said. "Angelo, give me your phone. It's been stressing you out. You can have it back in the morning."

"Fine," Angelo sighed. They went up to bed, Angelo brushing his teeth and changing into his pyjamas. He heard a knock at his bedroom door. "Who is it?"

"It's me, your dad. Can I come in?"

"Yes," Angelo admitted. The bigger man sidled into his room, eventually sitting down on the end of the bed.

"I guess it's at the time that I ought to talk to you about your room and this house. Since I learned about you being bisexual, I'm going to have to update a few things with you. First of all, nobody is allowed in your room unless the door is open and we're home," Bonaventura sighed. "If you need condoms or anything like that, you can ask me," Bonaventura replied. Angelo blushed, but his father continued. "And another thing. When Logan comes over, he knows we have food in our house, right?"

"Yes," Angelo replied.

"Then maybe you could tell him that so he doesn't keep eating your neck?" Bonaventura asked. Angelo blushed. "I can see those marks he gave you. This is why he isn't allowed into your room when you're home alone. He can walk you home, and that's it. You understand?"

"Yes," Angelo whimpered. His father nodded.

"Good kid." The adult ruffled his son's hair and left the room.

"Oh, fuck," Angelo muttered, smothering his face into a pillow with pure shame.

* * *

Translations

1: Mum/Mom. Italian

2: Dad. Italian


	42. Tell-all

_Time skip: from Tuesday, July 23rd to Saturday, July 27th_

* * *

Angelo woke up to angry yelling coming from his father and someone else. He went downstairs, only to see his father arguing with a reporter.

"I just want to talk to your son about his experiences!" she yelled. "Oh, come on! You know me!"

"My son needs to have time to heal!" Bonaventura snapped. "He needs to have time to heal, away from this!"

"Just a word, please!" she pleaded. "Look, if you want to talk, here are some details." She pushed a business card through the post box and then left. Bonaventura took the business card, throwing it at the bin and thinking no more of it. It actually fell just in front of the bin, and Angelo picked it up and took it away to his room.

Merle Moore

Host for Day Break TV

merlemoore@daybreaktv.com

"Angelo, come play with me!" Mirella called.

"I need to go get food and . . . sort something out," Angelo called, going to the kitchen for breakfast. He measured cornflakes into a bowl, then measured milk into a pan heated on the stove and checked his phone. He wanted to see the footage of his interview. The name on the business card seemed familiar to him.

"And hello there, Day Break TV!" Merle Moore announced, to a live studio audience giving her a standing ovation. "I'm Merle Moore, and I have such a special boy for you to meet. He has an IQ of 235, and has only just passed multiple tests meant for people three times his age. And did I mention that he's only five years old? Yes, five. Years. Old. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Angelo Riva!" A much younger Angelo Riva walked out through a door with his parents on either side of him, to lots of applause. Angelo just paused it at the moment they came out, looking at it.

 _We all looked so different,_ he thought. _Dad's hair wasn't so salt-and pepper looking back then. Mum still looks sort of the same. I looked so innocent, small. Mirella hadn't been born. People may have called me smart, but there was still so much I didn't know._

Angelo went over to his milk, which was simmering, and turned the heat off. "Ahh," Angelo sighed, taking his cereal and eating it at the table. Pepsi came over and begged for food. "No, Pepsi. You'll get sick." Pepsi whined. "I'll get you food." He walked over to Pepsi and his bag of dog food, scooping out a bowl and placing it on the floor. He ate the food happily, no longer interested in the cornflakes. "Good boy," Angelo muttered.

"Now can you play with me?" Mirella asked.

"I can't; I have something to write," Angelo replied.

"Angelo, I wanna play with you," Mirella whined.

"I can't; I'm sorry." Angelo went to his room, turned on his laptop and started to write. He wanted to document all his experiences, before he lost his nerve. He typed, deleted and retyped, not feeling like he was making any progress until he had spent over half an hour writing. What he wrote was an open letter, addressed to everyone and anyone.

_Dear Reader/s,_

_I can't take it any more. Questions are circling my head like vultures circling a dying animal in a desert and I feel like I have to do something. So I'm speaking out. Hopefully, if I do this, my family can be left alone, to continue their lives in peace. I am writing this open letter because I don't have the strength to go on camera and say it there without breaking down, and for that, I am sorry. My life has not been the same since that fateful day in Joey's Place._

_I remember it vividly, but I don't think that's a good thing. My partner, whose name and gender I shall keep anonymous for their sake, were eating pizza and talking. I don't remember what we were talking about, but I remember laughing and being happy. A man in black clothing and a white mask came in and yelled at us to freeze. We were about to go back to our pizzas, but then he pulled out a gun. He wanted everyone to put their phones on the table. If we did as he said, nobody would get hurt. I got closer to my partner because I was scared. I didn't want to get hurt or die. He got closer to me, really close. I could feel his breath on my face. He asked me my name, and I told him. That was the signal to take me. Two others came in. They wore black clothing and white masks, like the first guy, and grabbed my arms and dragged me away. I remember screaming at my partner to give my phone to my parents, not to panic and I loved them. They took me to this car and just shoved me in. A rag covered in something sharp and sweet was pressed over my mouth and nose, and my world went black._

_When I woke up, I was being held by two men, just like when I was taken. I was in front of this woman with long red hair, who looked down at me and smirked. I don't remember the entirety of what she and I said to each other, but I remember this last thing she said to me._

_"I hope you like your new home!"_

_And my world faded to black all over again._

_On day 1, I woke up in a tiny room, on a small, old mattress on the floor. I got a bucket to use as a toilet, two bottles of water for hydration and two ham sandwiches. Some men came in and took me to a room with an odd thing. I asked what it was, and I was slapped around the face. They said it was a bomb-maker. They wanted it to make bombs for them, as it would be faster that way, and they wanted me to fix and improve it for them. I recorded everything I saw with my watch, and then sent everything to my phone. Then I got to work. I loosened all of the screws holding it together, wrote the wrong instructions, programmed it incorrectly, everything I could. They didn't come back until several hours later, and I made sure that my watch was recording. I don't remember everything, just some parts. I'm glad I recorded everything. I was worried that if I didn't, I would be called crazy or a liar. So I took pictures and recorded everything like a crazy person, so nobody could say I was wrong or mad._

_There are some things I remember._

_Being called a 'son of a bitch' and being slapped hard enough for me to almost fall over._

_How glorious it looked when it literally collapsed in on itself, trying to hide my smile so I didn't get a beating._

_The redheaded lady screaming about how their donors' money has been wasted. Then I was taken to my cell. Or maybe I should call it my room. Whatever. I stopped recording by then. I used the bucket as a toilet, ate one of the sandwiches, drank a whole bottle of water (I don't exactly know why) and fell asleep._

_Day 2 started with me waking up unusually early. I tried to comfort myself with memories of people back home. My parents, my brother and sister, my partner, my dog, my friends from school. I tried to make myself feel better. But it didn't. I remembered other things, like being dragged away into a car._

_My partner's face when I was dragged out._

_Having that rag pressed against my face and then becoming unconscious._

_The redheaded lady telling me "I hope you like your new home!"_

_Fainting after I heard her._

_My terror became despair, which became tears, which became anger, which became an even stronger drive for revenge against them. I hated them from taking me away from everything I knew. I wanted all of them to go down, and if I ended up dying because of it, then that was the way I was supposed to go._

_Two people came in and I was dragged over to inventions and forced to work on them. First was a hacking device they called "The Parasite". I didn't know why they wanted me to help them with something like this. They told me the government that ran my life was corrupt and that they suppressed the truth using the media. That they were really the good guys._ _I asked, "If the good guys have to kidnap people, aren't they the bad guys?"_ _When they pointed out that I was helping them and I said it was because they were forcing me to, they punched me in the gut, one after the other. They laughed when I fell to the floor, like school bullies. They locked the door behind them to keep me in and force me to work. Like before, I did my best to sabotage everything, but I tried to be even worse than before. Wrong instructions, messed up wiring, everything I could. They didn't know what I'd done, and told me to work on their cameras. One guy came in with food, but another guy took it, a big guy with a dragon tattoo on his neck. He said I could have it when I fixed everything._ _They locked me in there. But I didn't like it in there, so I got myself out._

_I faked starvation-induced delirium and pounded on the door. When the redheaded lady came to see what was going on, I collapsed on top of her, babbling about how I was so hungry and I felt like I couldn't stand up any more. I was taken to a white room and given some food by a woman of East Asian descent in a white lab coat, who gave me some food and said that I should rest. I asked to walk around the premises, and I was allowed to. From there, I went around taking photographs of everything and everyone. Once they locked me in my cell room for the night, I made the video that was later picked up by the International Guild of Investigative Journalists and shared around the world. I sent GPS signalling to my phone, which would end up telling whoever found it where to find me. Then I went to sleep._

_Day 3 started with chaos. I woke up to screaming. The police came for me, talking into a megaphone. Shouting about how they were surrounded. I remember that they (the New Wave of Intellect) were screaming, grabbing guns of all sizes to defend themselves. The redheaded lady was screaming "Who called the police? Who? Who?" She just knew it was me, and pressed the gun to the back of my head and made me walk to my cell. She locked the door. I heard a click and chains rattling, like the ones my parents have on the front door. She left to go and do something, and then all I heard were screams and swearing. Then it got scarily quiet. A man burst in, angry with me for selling them out to the police. He punched me, kicked me, anything to make me scream and hurt. I punched him as much as I could, but it wasn't going to be enough. Then he kicked my leg, hard enough for it to later be pronounced by doctors as broken. I remembered to scream for help, and then the police officers came in and arrested him._

_I remembered being taken to an ambulance and driven away. I passed out in the back of the van, and woke up on a gurney rushed somewhere by people in green momentarily before passing out again. Once I properly woke up, I was in a hospital bed wearing a hospital gown and surrounded by my family and my partner. My mother hugged me, wiping my tears away. My father messed up my hair and poked my nose. And just like that, I felt like a little kid all over again. I looked at my partner with tears in my eyes. I thought I'd never see them again. That was also the first time my partner met my extended family. That was when I learned about how the story was on the news._

_"I just want this to be over. When can I go home?" I asked. That was when I heard officially, from a doctor, that I had a broken leg. It wouldn't last long for the leg to get back to normal as long as I got some exercise after it (the cast) came off. I'd be on bed rest for three days, at which point I would be able to walk with the aid of crutches. My life felt like it was on hold._

_Until I was allowed out of bed, everything felt awful. I got visited in hospital by multiple police officers concerning my kidnapping and what I'd seen and went through. My words were written down for future reference. My bruises and broken leg were photographed to later be stored in a file and slotted away eventually. I felt so embarrassed as I was undressed and my body was documented for proof of assault, because I now knew that my whole body was a crime scene, and every mark on it had to be accounted for and an explanation extracted from either me or my attacker._

_Time seemed to slow down while I laid in hospital, but I had some saving graces: books that my dad had brought for me from home, and my partner. They were just amazing. They warned me that they wouldn't be able to come all the time, but still came every day to see me. They came bearing gifts that well-wishers wanted me to have, cards and flowers and way more snacks than one teenager should ever have. My partner came in every day to tell me about how things were like outside. They were also the one to tell me about the video I'd made getting into the hands of investigative journalists. Friends from school came to talk to me and cheer me up. They signed my cast, pinning me down to do so (I'm insanely ticklish and kept squirming away, so that was the only choice they had). I loved that I wasn't just left alone and ignored, like I had done by my peers before._

_Coming home was a wonderful yet scary experience. While it felt great to be in a familiar place, I was worried how I'd get around. Stairs were impossible without help, and my leg hurt. I took my pain medication, but reluctantly. I hated the way it made my head spin and thoughts slow down. Normally, I tried to take my mind off the pain by doing something. I just find that it helps me to ignore what I don't want to think about. I hated how I had such feelings; I knew from all the media coverage that there were twelve other teenagers who were kidnapped before me, and they stayed there for much longer than I had. Why did I have such feelings when others had been subjected to far worse?_

_Unfortunately, I have a very odd attention span. Although I am capable of sitting down and completing things like homework and videos just fine, I was already so incredibly bored not long after being taken home. I tried to concentrate on a book, but I couldn't stop looking around at the home I lived in that was the same but different. It was going to take a while for me to be able to navigate my home. It was because I hated how I was stuck at home, and wanted to go out. More specifically, I wanted to go back to school._

_I really wish I hadn't done that._

_My partner continued to be amazing. They insisted upon picking me up before school and dropping me off afterwards, braving media crowds outside my house and school to do so. This act was something I never asked for, but was incredibly touched by it. When I got to school, people cheered and applauded me. It was this roar that seemed to shake the sky itself, and although I was struck by other people's support, the loud noise was something I didn't like. I slipped away to the toilets and had a panic attack. Nothing made sense. I had been subjected to bullying before, and I was used to getting a negative reaction from classmates. So to get such a positive reaction from other people I went to school with was a shock to me, combined with the noise and large amounts of touching from other classmates, even though I know they didn't mean to. I was comforted by my partner, who gently explained how my last school and the school I was in now was very different. My current school was more accepting and actually liked me, and I would be OK. With them around, with their comforting presence close to me, today would be a good day._

_That day at PE, I was sitting out of that class along with one other person, and that person was Maxwell Norwood-Sykes. I had no idea how he played a role in this story; I just saw him as the boy who thought it would be funny to take a photo of me kissing my partner and sharing it to the entire school. He was suspended for that. I didn't like him for that, but I didn't want to start anything. I just sat on the bench and watched the other kids play, since there was nothing I could really do to participate. It was about halfway through the lesson when the police officers came to the court, and everything came to a halt. The coach tried to get them to get back to playing, but that could never happen. He called for Maxwell to come over to talk to the officers. They talked for what seemed like a second, and then Maxwell was being handcuffed and read his rights and he was crying and other people were booing. He was taken away in a police car._

_It seemed like the media got worse once Maxwell was arrested. People asking me what I thought about it, what our teachers thought about it. I didn't want to leave the house on those days, but I had school and my partner was waiting for me outside, so I had to go._

_Maxwell's arrest marked the first thing related to my kidnapping that made me realize that I was in over my head. The next thing was Instagram. I was finally able to make my own account, since I was no longer in danger. With the help of my partner, I set one up and I started just scrolling through it. And I ended up finding a picture of . . . myself by a sort of news channel. The word 'badass' was used to describe me. Then, I was flattered. Now, I have questions. Was the picture they used of me just on the internet for all to see? How come nobody was talking about the first twelve survivors, who had been kidnapped like me, but stayed for much longer? How long had they known?_

_Then there were the arrests. First were the arrests of the people who acted as informants to the New Wave of Intellect for the first twelve. All of them were students when it happened, at the survivors' schools. All of them were taken into custody. But the one that seemed to get more attention was when the rich and powerful was dragged into it. They had used their wealth and connections to pay for their equipment in return for having increased influence in how the world would be run once they got into power. I felt like I was living in a really bad but really scary movie. Everything seemed to happen so fast, as I saw more names being reported in the media. Prominent names, names of businesspeople, media celebrities, talk show hosts, academics. Famous all over the world, none of them having any real connection to the others. The only thing they had in common was that they all of them were apparently involved in financing my kidnappers. It made me feel sick to see how far their hold on people stretched and intertwined._

_The last time I saw Maxwell, it was in court for his trial. I went there with my parents to see him and give my victim impact statement. I wanted him to know what he'd done to my family. What he'd done to me. I watched his face change from start to finish; apprehensive at first, then smug as he thought he would be found not guilty, submissive and nodding along with what his lawyer said, and then just wallowing in self-pity. As I listened to Maxwell give his statement, I quietly seethed. He was regurgitating what his lawyer said: that he was just an immature teenager who got mad and did a stupid thing that got him arrested. Maxwell's defence was that if he was convicted, his life would be ruined and he shouldn't have to pay for his immature mistakes. He would suffer just as much as 'the victim and his loved ones'. He didn't even call me Angelo. Just 'the victim'. My blood boiled when he insinuated that he would suffer just as much as my family would. He was not going to wake up in the middle of the night remembering things he should never have to remember. He was not injured as a result of this. He was not going to live in shame from this forever. Then again, maybe he was. Just for a different reason._

_When the verdict was given (guilty of all charges) Maxwell cried, and so did his mother. "I can't go to jail! I'm just a kid! I'll die in there!" he cried out. By 'there', he meant prison. When he was taken away, he screamed, "Angelo, I hate you! I HATE YOU!" Then he went away. I left there feeling a sort of relief. I knew he wasn't coming back, and I wasn't going to be in danger because of him again. I could breathe, rest easy, continue with my life._

_After the trial, I felt the consequences far more than I had both before and during it. I began feeling low. I started having nightmares. One nightmare I remember having is one of me, my partner and my dog. We're in a park, and we're happy. Really happy. And then Maxwell finds us. My partner takes my dog and runs, and I'm left there. Maxwell is running towards me, and he's screaming "ANGELO, I HATE YOU!" like he did in the court room. Just before he gets to me, I wake up with my heart beating out of my chest like I ran a marathon. Some days I don't want to get out of bed, but I can't tell whether or not that's because of what's happened to me or because I've never been a morning person. It's also affecting my family. My father is a mixture of irritable and tetchy when the phone rings. Any phone, to be honest. He picks it up, answers it, and then starts shouting angrily if it's a reporter on the other end. If it's somebody he knows and he is safe from invasive, uncomfortable questions, he deflates with relief. My mother seems to be talking to her friends a lot more. I hear her mentioning what's happened._

_My family has been very supportive of me during this trying time in my life. When I complain about the reporters asking me questions, my mother would, quite calmly, talk to me about just how much she would like to take a few eggs and throw them at troublesome reporters. Sure, she'd be fired, but it would be worth it for the looks on their faces. And hearing my mother talk about egging reporters with eggs she got from the kitchen conjures such ridiculous mental imagery that I can't help laughing. My five-year-old sister is also helping me, but I'm not sure if she knows entirely what's going on. I know that she knows I was 'gone' for a few days and my leg was hurt when I was 'gone', but I know she doesn't know some of the worse details, and I don't want her to. Just when I'm feeling especially low, she comes in asking for a book to be read to her, or to play kings and queens in her bedroom and pour each other imaginary tea, and I can't focus on feeling so awful about myself because I'm busy pretending to drink imaginary royal tea. Even my dog, who senses when I'm sad and going over to me for either gentle licks and snuggles and lying on top of me or just licking me all over until I'm too busy giggling to feel sad. It was my father who first suggested therapy, and took me to my first therapy session. He's always made it clear that I could talk to him about anything, whether he straight-up told me that, or with little actions._

_Telling me he was so proud of me after I gave my victim impact statement and that I was so brave._

_Getting comfort food and movies after the trial because he could tell just from looking at me that I was mentally drained._

_Telling me he would support me every step of the way when I spilled my guts about how I felt._

_Being the last to let go after a hug I didn't know I needed so much._

_Holding me after a nightmare when I wake up screaming._

_There have also recently been some videos circulating on the internet; one of them being of a girl that said she was only interested in my story because I was, in her words, 'really hot' and speculated that I would want to date her because 'lots of guys like to date girls with more experience'. It ended with her revealing my Instagram handle and telling me to call her if I wanted to hook up with a hot blonde. These sort of videos have generated lots of negative comments saying all sorts of horrible things to the creators. Although watching it and others like it made me very uncomfortable, I would like to take the time to condemn any and all hatred anyone talking about this subject is getting. Two wrongs don't make a right. They never have, and they never will._

_The most conflicting part about all the attention that I'm getting is that I am being commended for my actions. I was called brave, heroic and badass. I do not feel like I am any of those things. I'm not sure if I ever was any of those things. I wasn't thinking of the greater good, or saving lives. I was only thinking of myself and how I could get out of there. I also feel the label of brave for having put up with those conditions is problematic because I feel I was able to keep a relatively cool head about it all. Also, I didn't stay long. It was a little longer than 48 hours. If that makes me brave, then I think you should know of twelve people who are far braver than me in every sense of the word._

_Lan Jiang._ _Ebony Augustine._ _Axel Vang._ _Kavi Sharma._ _Khadeeja Rahman._ _Erzulie Barton._ _Nadeen Kanaan._ _Oscar Engel._ _Ada Engel._ _Brianna Jones._ _Ryan Llewellyn._ _Eric Nussbaum._

_These twelve survivors endured months of unspeakable hell. Say their names before you even think about saying mine._

_They were brave too._

_Sincerely,_

_Angelo Riva._

Angelo looked at his open letter and sighed with relief. It was finally complete. It was incredibly hard to write, but it was finally finished, and that was what mattered. He looked to his left, and saw that Pepsi had stayed with him the entire time. That sweet, faithful dog waited until he was done writing to play with him. "Hey, buddy," Angelo sighed. "Want me to give you belly rubs and kisses?" Pepsi barked happily, nudging Angelo's leg with his nose. "OK. I'll save this document and turn the laptop off first, and then I'll just sit on the bed and I'll snuggle you, OK?" Angelo hobbled over to the bed and the moment he sat down was when Pepsi expected his clearly long-overdue snuggles and affirmations of being a good boy. The boy was calmed down by the dog, who was happily snuggling the inventor and whining for belly rubs. Rubbing his belly was just so . . . calming. He felt reassured by doing this, but he didn't know exactly why.

"Now you're finished, can we play?" Mirella asked.

"OK. What do you want to do?" Angelo asked.

Mirella was happy to hear Angelo wanted to spend time with her. "Could we . . . make pizza?"

"Sure, why not?" Angelo asked. "Let's see if we've got what we need for pizza. Pizza dough?"

"Check!"

"Tomato sauce?"

"Check!"

"Cheese?"

"Check!"

"We've got everything! Let's start!" The kitchen became a flurry of cooking, ingredients being rolled out and ladled out and sprinkled on, before eventually placing it in the preheated oven. A timer was set, and all they had to do was wait. Mirella was exhausted. All that pizza making was tiring.

"I'm tired, Angelo. Can I take a nap now?" she sighed.

"Not yet. Help me clean the kitchen up," Angelo sighed. Mirella sighed and helped carry what little cutlery they'd used while cooking and place it into the sink. Angelo took it upon himself to clean the place up. He couldn't ask Mirella for help; she was too little. So he did it on his own. When he was done, his still healing leg hurt like crazy, and he laid down on the sofa, his leg propped up on a sofa cushion. It made his head spin, and he wanted to take a remote and pause the pain, like a recording. Then he remembered the painkillers he was prescribed. He still had them. To Angelo's shame, he had taken them before, and he hated it. He felt woozy, his mind was slowed down. But he felt like he had no choice. He turned the bottle over in his hands, looking for the recommended dosage. Two pills with a glass of water. He got a glass of water, tossed the pills in his mouth and swallowed a mouthful of water to wash it down. He took the pizzas out of the oven for them to cool. Mirella's mini pizza ended up on a plate for her, so she didn't burn herself on the hot pan.

"Mirella, don't touch the pizzas yet, they're still very hot," Angelo called. He got no reply. He went back to the sofa, and Angelo started wondering if the painkillers were even worth anything. They didn't even seem to work.

Then everything changed.

Angelo soon started feeling woozy, tired and weak. He tried to get up and go to bed, but he was pinned down by gravity and his weakening legs. He fell asleep on the sofa, curling his body into a tight ball containing everything but his still-healing leg. He let it hang over the end of the sofa. It felt better that way. Less painful. Easier.

"Angelo, where did that pizza come from?" Roselle asked, coming into the kitchen. "And who cleaned the kitchen?"

"Angelo helped me make pizza!" Mirella chirped, showing her mother her half-eaten miniature pizza. "He cleaned the kitchen too!" The matriarch glared at her son. She wasn't mad, just disappointed.

"Angelo, you should be resting!" Roselle scolded. "Your leg isn't better yet, and you know that!"

"I thought you'd be happy if I helped out," Angelo sighed. "Sorry, _Mamma_ (1)."

"Sweetie." Roselle sat down on the sofa with her son. "Come on. You don't need to do all this to make us happy, you just relax and recover at your own pace. Did you take some of the painkillers?"

"Yes."

"Good boy."

"I hate them. I feel slow and sluggish and weak."

"Angelo, you need to do as those doctors say. They know what they're doing."

"Doesn't stop me from feeling gross."

"Oh, shush. You can get through this. You're being such a good boy." Angelo blushed when he heard his mother say that. She reminded him of Logan. "Angelo, are you OK?"

"Can I lie down?" Angelo asked. His mother nodded.

"Of course, honey," Roselle sighed. "I'll give you some privacy. When you're awake, would you like me to reheat the pizza for you?"

"Yes, please."

* * *

Angelo slept like a baby. The painkillers did their job of getting rid of the pain; they also made a good sleep aid. He didn't have one nightmare while he was asleep.

"Angelo, wanna snuggle?" Mirella asked. Angelo sighed.

"OK," Angelo sighed, opening his arms to her. Mirella crawled into his arms, snuggled and wanting to share the blanket. She loved it when they fell asleep on the sofa together, like after a movie.

"You going to go away again?" Mirella asked.

"No, honey."

"Is that nasty boy coming back?"

"No, he isn't."

"I love you, big bubba." Angelo smiled at the word. It was like the very first time Mirella said the word brother.

* * *

_Flashback - four years ago_

_Angelo, eleven, was teaching Mirella how to say his name. "I'm Angelo. Say Angelo, Mirella."_

_"Angewo," Mirella, aged one, cooed._

_"She said my name! She said Angelo! She said Angelo! Good girl! Good girl, Mirella!" Angelo squealed. Mirella looked up at him with a big, slightly confused smile, not entirely knowing what she did. "I'm Angelo, your brother. Big brother." Angelo looked at Mirella, smiling at her. "Brother. Big brother."_

_"Bubba," Mirella cooed._

_"Yes, Mirella. Very good. I'm your bubba."_

* * *

Angelo snuggled Mirella. She was just so precious, and he didn't want to lose her. She was his baby sister.

"Mirella, sweetie . . . you're not getting any bigger, are you?" Angelo asked his little sister.

"Yeah, I'm getting way bigger! Maybe even bigger than you and Santo and Dad!" Mirella giggled. Her big brother sounded so silly. Of course she was going to get bigger than she was now!

"But why do you need to get bigger? You can stay this little forever," Angelo pleaded.

"No! I'm going to be big!" Mirella giggled. "I don't like being little."

Angelo sighed. He knew that he'd never liked being little, so he'd have to respect his sister's wishes. "I know. I know you're going to be big eventually, but I'm going to miss how little you used to be." He petted Mirella.

"Angelo, what are you going to do with the things you wrote?" Mirella asked.

"I'm going to send it to somebody I know," Angelo told her.

"Who is it?" Mirella asked. Angelo got up, going to his room and firing his laptop back up.

Angelo didn't even answer her.

* * *

He emailed the document to the email address on the card. He felt . . . relieved, almost. Like he'd gotten something off his chest. It would probably get worse from there, but he would get through it.

Like he got through everything else.

"I'm going to have to explain this to _Mamma_ and _Papa_ (2)," Angelo sighed. "I'm in so much trouble."

"For what?" Bonaventura asked. Angelo's blood ran cold.

"I . . . did something stupid. I took the card that you threw away and wrote a letter about what happened to me from my point of view. Then I emailed it to them. I did it so the reporter people would shut up and leave my family alone."

"Oh, Angelo," Bonaventura sighed. "It'll be OK. I'm not mad at you, _il mio piccolo inventore_ (3)."

 _"Papa!"_ Angelo whined. Bonaventura laughed, eating a slice of the bigger pizza right in front of his son.

"Angelo!" he whined back. "Hey, look on the bright side. Maybe you're right and they'll stop now."

"Maybe," Angelo sighed.

* * *

Late that night, Merle Moore was going through her many emails when she found something in her spam folder. Out of curiosity, she opened it and found the scoop of a lifetime.

"Stop the presses!" she screamed. As the news team stared at her, she pointed at her computer like a madwoman. "Forget the story about the mayoress. We've been personally emailed a scoop. Right from the horse's mouth."

* * *

Translations

1: Mom/Mum. Italian.

2: Dad. Italian.

3: My little inventor. Italian.


	43. Interview proposal

_Sunday, July 28th_

* * *

Logan was shaken out of bed by his brother. "Wakey wakey, prat, your boyfriend's on the news again," Caleb replied.

"Oh, what now?" Logan asked.

"A tell-all letter," Caleb said. "Your boyfriend wrote a huge email and sent it to the media. Don't know how they found it. They get loads of emails. Surprised it didn't end up in the spam folder or something." Logan rushed out of bed and raced to the TV. There he saw a woman in a pantsuit and short brown hair presenting it. Merle Moore. A picture of Angelo was shown. Logan and Caleb recognized it as the family photo his parents submitted as the photo identification, the one that showed up in the front pages of newspapers.

"Breaking news for those following the New Wave of Intellect saga, a tell-all open letter has just been published by Angelo Riva. The boy wrote a raw, intimate letter addressing the topic of mental health, family and what he went through at the hands of his captors," Merle reported. "There was also a memorable part near the end where he referenced the twelve previous victims and stood in solidarity with them. Angelo Riva said, and I quote, 'Lan Jiang. Ebony Augustine. Axel Vang. Kavi Sharma. Khadeeja Rahman. Erzulie Barton. Nadeen Kanaan. Oscar Engel. Ada Engel. Brianna Jones. Ryan Llewellyn. Eric Nussbaum. These twelve survivors endured months of unspeakable hell. Say their names before you even think about saying mine. They were brave too.' A moving sentiment indeed."

"This boy is just full of surprises, huh? Just when everything seems to be figured out, he sends us all for a spin once again. We really need to get this kid to sit down for an interview sometime," an unnamed male co-host chuckled. Logan worried about his boyfriend. He was going to be so anxious and worried.

"I'll go and call Angelo. I'm worried he won't be able to cope with all this," Logan muttered, rushing upstairs for some privacy. Caleb sighed and changed the channel to something else. In the bedroom that he shared with his brother, he called his boyfriend. "Angelo, are you OK?"

"Logan, it's too early. Not now," Angelo whined, still rather sleepy. Logan cringed. He'd woken Angelo up with his worrying.

"Angelo, there's this letter thing that news people are saying that you wrote. Is that true?" Logan waited for Angelo's response.

"Yeah. I wrote it so nobody would ask me any more questions," Angelo sighed. "Why?" The redhead breathed a sigh of relief.

"I was getting worried, my cute little genius boy," Logan cooed. Angelo blushed.

"Logan, do you have to tease me?" the inventor blushed. "You're not even physically here!"

"Angelo, keep talking like that and I will come over there," Logan insisted. "Honestly, you are a cutie pie, and a flustered cutie pie, too. I'll need to take you somewhere quiet, huh?" Angelo muffled a squeal. "Is that a yes or no, honey?"

"Yes, but later," Angelo decided. "That would be nice. Some privacy."

"Now, what do we do with all that privacy? I can plan that for you, and you can just daydream about it until then," the cartoonist cooed, before hanging up. Angelo blushed madly and squirmed on the spot. The squirming never stopped him from getting his clothes, putting them on, and eating some toast. Grabbing his crutches, he left, but not before texting his mother.

_Going to meet Logan. Not sure when I'll be back._

Then he left. Walking down the street, he started settling down and relaxing until he felt someone tap on his shoulder. Angelo turned around and saw Logan there. He smiled. "Hello, Logan!"

"Angelo, you little cutie," Logan cooed. "I have no time to waste. I just need to pick a nice, quiet, closed off spot for us to stay for a while." Angelo nodded, walking with him. "Yes, that's it, precious, stay close to me." A hand was grasped firmly on the boy's rear, who squealed. "Oh, did I startle you?"

"N-no," Angelo muttered, blushing. "Where do you want to go?"

"Maybe my house," Logan suggested. "It'll be private and away from people. You can be in my bed, like a cute little toy."

"OK," Angelo agreed, incapable of looking Logan in the eyes. "You won't hurt me, will you?"

"Not unless you want me to," Logan grinned. The cartoonist smirked at his little prize, who whimpered, looking at Logan with adorably scared eyes. "Don't look at me like that. I can't help that you're so cute. Come on." They walked to the smirking boy's house, Logan even linking arms with him since Angelo couldn't hold his hand and his crutches at the same time. The inexperienced boy blushed madly as he felt someone was watching them. But soon, he relaxed. He couldn't care less if the whole world was looking as they linked arms.

And then _that_ guy came along.

"Angelo, is this the partner you mentioned in your tell-all?" a lone reporter yelled, as a cameraman recorded everything. "You certainly look very cosy together."

"Leave him alone! Can't you leave him be for a while and let him be a teenager?" Logan yelled. "You've been to his school and house and where his parents work and the damn shops! Where will you not go for a few answers and a photo opportunity?"

"Just go, please! I want to be left alone! I refused to mention my partner's name because then they would get followed like me!" He sighed, looking at Logan. "I'm sorry."

"It's OK. I know it's not your fault. Come on."

"Angelo, we just want to talk to you! You said you would eventually!" the reporter sighed.

"I will. And it'll be on my terms," Angelo replied. "I'm sorry about them."

"It's not your fault, babe." Logan took Angelo over to his house, setting him down on the sofa. He couldn't possibly touch Angelo now, not like this. He needed to help Angelo calm down. His face had turned a pale grey.

"I'm so sorry," Angelo sighed. His face was cradled in his hands.

"Why? It's not even your fault."

"I should have hidden you better. So this didn't happen."

"I don't ever want to hide from you."

"Really? You're serious?" Angelo looked up at Logan, blushing as he wiped a tear off his face.

"Of course. I love you." Angelo let out a squeak of happiness at Logan snuggled, another tear falling. Then another, and another until he found himself crying his eyes out on Logan's shoulder.

"I love you t-too." The tears became louder and messier, Logan holding him in his arms throughout it all.

"Angelo, none of this is your fault, no matter what anyone says," Logan made sure to tell him. "Everyone knows the truth. Everything you did was incredibly brave."

"Risking harassment for being with me was brave," Angelo replied.

"Angelo, can you come out?" the reporter asked, hammering on the door. Angelo, his face a picture of annoyance, hobbled to the door.

"Do you have any idea how judgemental people are, especially of teenagers? I'm not coming out until I'm ready!" Angelo yelled.

"Don't throw a tantrum, kid," the reporter chided.

"Don't follow me, then!" Angelo stormed off, back to the sofa where his boyfriend was waiting.

"Angelo, would you like to go home? I understand that you might not feel safe here-"

"I don't want to be taken away from you again." It was whispered, but loud enough to chime in Logan's mind like bells ringing in celebration.

"Neither do I."

* * *

They stayed snuggled on the sofa, just staying close to each other. It felt safe that way. Cosy.

"You're so cute," Logan sighed. Angelo let out a squeak, stiffening up as he watched Logan's smile become a smirk as he got the reaction he wanted out of the boy.

"You're . . . cute too," he squeaked. Logan hugged him, drawing them closer. Someone so cute needed a ring of hickeys on his neck. Honestly, what was Angelo thinking? Cute people had a higher risk of being taken away for kisses and being made to moan and beg for more. "L-Logan!"

"Hush, babe," Logan whispered. "Don't worry, I'm not taking your clothes off. That is for only two places: your bedroom or my bedroom. I'm just going to cover you in hickeys and make sure those reporters get a nice photo of you coming out of an unknown house covered in love bites." Angelo purred and giggled through it.

"Wait there," Logan told him, looking out of the window. He looked around, seeing that his boyfriend's media stalkers were gone and then let out a sigh of relief. "They're gone. Now I can walk you home."

"You're going to do this all the time, aren't you?" Angelo asked.

"Of course, babe," Logan promised. "Come on." Logan got his shoes and Angelo's and took Angelo home. The black-haired boy had a neck full of hickeys visible to anyone who saw him, and the redheaded cartoonist was linking arms with him, smirking whenever he looked up at Angelo's neck. Happily, he took Angelo home, knocking on the door and waiting for someone to open it. They were greeted by Mirella, who looked them up and down with a critical look.

"What happened?" Angelo's sister asked. "Why is Angelo's neck hurt?"

"Angelo and I were . . . playing," Logan replied. Mirella looked at her brother, then his boyfriend, back to Angelo, then Logan, and kicked Logan in the leg. "OW!" Logan yelped.

"You hurt him! He has bruises on his neck! You're mean!" Mirella snapped. "Mean, mean, mean!" Every time she said 'mean' she kicked Logan again.

"Stop! Stop, it hurts!" Logan pleaded, as she kicked him harder. "Help!"

"Mirella, no!" Angelo pleaded. "No, don't do that!"

"Say you're sorry and then go." Mirella ordered.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Logan blurted out. "Bye, Angelo!"

"Bye," Angelo called, before turning to his sister. "Mirella, you didn't have to kick him."

"I'm not allowed to kick him?"

"No."

"Am I allowed to kick anybody?"

"No."

"Can I kick anyone who asks you questions and takes photos?"

"Still no. Kicking people is wrong," Angelo told her. _Please ignore me and kick them,_ he thought to himself. But he couldn't say that to his little sister, who was walking to the kitchen to get herself a cookie. He got himself a book and began to read. It had been a while since he'd got his hands on a good book.

"Hello. honey!" Roselle cooed. "Did you have fun with Logan?"

"Yes," Angelo smiled. "You're probably going to be seeing me in the news again. This reporter guy took photos of me with Logan. I'm worried that I've been outed to the world."

"Would you like to talk to your therapist about it?" Roselle asked. Angelo nodded. "I'll book another appointment for you."

"Thank you," Angelo muttered.

* * *

It turned out Angelo and Logan didn't need to worry. When the reporter and cameraman got back, they were eager to see the footage. Angelo Riva, genius and hero, had a boyfriend. But when they watched the footage, they realized that it was just audio. All they could see was black. "What's going on? Why can't I see anything?" the reporter snapped.

"Yeah . . . about that . . ." The cameraman felt sick to his stomach.

"What?"

"I may have . . . forgotten to take off the cap when taking the video."

"Dammit!" the reporter cursed, throwing things around the room. "You're fired! Go! Go! Just go!" The cameraman yelped, taking his camera and rushing away. The reporter sighed, as they eventually sighed and sank into their seat.

"I can't believe I missed out on such a good story. The royalties I could have been paid from this," they lamented.

"Yeah, never mind that you were following two teenagers around to take photos of them for some newspaper to publish," the cameraman muttered.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing! I didn't say anything!"

* * *

Meanwhile, at home, the parents were going through the mail when they came across one from Merle Moore. They knew about the famous talk show host, since they had been on the show before when Angelo was five and got famous for the first time. They remembered it well. Angelo probably remembered it a little. Roselle opened the letter, and they read the letter.

_Addressed to Angelo Riva_

"Angelo, there's a letter for you!" Bonaventura called. Angelo went downstairs and took the letter from him. Reading it made him gasp.

_Firstly, I would like to commend you on your tolerance and perseverance during what must be this difficult time for you and your family. Thank you for sending us the letter detailing of your experiences. It was very helpful and we at Day Break TV are proud to be the ones that you sent this letter to, and proud that we could be the ones to share your story to the world. I am writing to ask you for a live televised interview on Day Break TV. We at Day Break TV are fascinated by your story and would like to talk to you for your own unique viewpoint. We will pay for taking you to the studio and the costs of accommodation leading up to the appearance. We would also like to introduce you to some people that would like to meet you._

_Please notify us as soon as possible about your choice and any questions that you would like to ask._

_Sincerely,_

_Merle Moore._

"Angelo, what do you think?" Roselle asked.

"I think I'll do it," Angelo replied. "I said I'll do an interview when I'm ready. I think I'm ready."

"Are you sure?" Bonaventura asked.

"Yes," Angelo insisted. "I can do this."

"Do you want to go alone?" Roselle asked.

Angelo blushed, his face becoming an adorable shade of red. "I'd like you to be in the audience, if you could." He blushed, while his parents looked at him and smiled.

"Of course," the boy's father smiled.

"Want us to sit at the back?" Bonaventura asked. "Maybe at the back, with a sign that says 'THIS IS OUR SON', wearing shirts with your face on them . . ."

"Dad!" Angelo blurted out, blushing as his parents laughed.

"I'm just kidding, Angelo. We'll be there," Roselle promised. "And I'll stop your father from doing anything stupid."

"Thank you." The black-haired boy breathed a sigh of relief. "You can make sure he doesn't do anything too crazy, right?"

"Of course."

"I am RIGHT HERE!"

"Ignore him and go to bed, Angelo."

"It's 5:30."

"Ah." Roselle didn't know what to do. "There's pasta in the fridge."

"I'll reheat it." Angelo had the pasta and a pot of sauce reheated. Once it was hot enough, both pots were taken off the stove and put onto a plate. As he ate the pasta, he got up, took the book and went to bed. But he didn't go to bed. He sat in bed reading the same book he had earlier. There was a knock at his door. "Hello?"

"Angelo, can I . . . stay in your room?" Mirella asked. "Just for tonight?"

"Mirella, you have school tomorrow," Angelo sighed.

"Please?" She hit Angelo with big, brown eyes like chocolate drops. And, like chocolate, Angelo melted.

"Just for tonight," Angelo sighed. Mirella squealed, giggling and stealing all the blanket. "Hey, gimme the blanket back!"

"No! It's soft and nice!"

"But I want to have some of the blanket!"

"No! I'm littlest, I get the blanket!"

"Mirella, I'm going to get cold."

"Umm . . . OK. You can have some of the blanket." Mirella generously gave Angelo just enough to cover himself up. Angelo hugged her.

"Thank you. You're so nice, Mirella." Mirella didn't reply. "Mirella?" Angelo looked at his adopted sister, only to realize that she was asleep. He checked the time, only to realize that it was only 7:30. Where did the time go? "Oh. Goodnight, then." He put the book down, turned off the lights and went to sleep. When the parents came to check on them, they found their children asleep in the same bed.

"Not a word," Bonaventura muttered.

"Agreed."


	44. An announcement and a video

_Monday, July 29th_

* * *

Angelo couldn't keep the news in any longer. He wanted to tell somebody so much. At school, he told Logan that he had something to say to him. Logan had already picked up on his boyfriend's excitement.

"You want to tell me something, don't you, babe?" Logan teased. "You wanna tell me?"

"Yes, but not here." His right leg swung in almost every direction, like an out of control, fucked up pendulum. "It's . . . exciting."

"You tell me after school, honey," Logan teased. "Come on. We have to get to History so Miss Hollins doesn't give us detention."

* * *

_Fast forward to 3:30_

Logan and Angelo were sitting in the Riva living room, Angelo giggling and unable to continue looking at Logan in the eye. "So, what is it?"

"I think I'm going to be on TV," Angelo squealed.

"No way! Seriously?" Logan giggled, his voice high-pitched with glee.

"Yes! They sent us a letter!" Angelo pointed out. "I'll get it!" He hobbled over, blushing as he handed over the letter.

"Angelo, this is great!" Logan congratulated, as the inventor blushed. "I'll make sure to watch you on TV and I'll stop nasty trolls from hating on you, I promise!"

"You will? Thank you!" Angelo hugged him. The cartoonist chuckled, ruffling his nerdy boyfriend's hair.

"Honestly, so cute." Logan was about to go over and kiss his clueless boyfriend witless, when he was interrupted by an equally oblivious Golden Retriever. Pepsi trotted in, holding a squeaky fox toy in his mouth and laying his head on Angelo's lap.

"Hello, my golden fluff potato!" Angelo baby talked, as the dog squeaked the toy happily. "Hello! Hi!"

"I've been blocked from kissing a cute boy by a dog with a toy," Logan muttered. Pepsi turned his attention to Logan, snuggling closer to the redhead. He loved Logan very much, despite not knowing him for very long. "Still a cute dog."

"About that . . . Pepsi, I need to tell you something," Angelo cooed. Logan began filming it all. "Soon, I'm going to go away." Pepsi whined. "Don't worry, I'll come back, I promise. I can't stay away for long, everyone will get so worried. And Logan will still be there. You want Logan?" Pepsi jumped up, squeaking the fox toy happily and frequently with glee. "Oh, you do want Logan! So cute! You want me?" Pepsi looked at Angelo, and then went back to Logan. "Pepsi! The betrayal!"

"Angelo, I've stolen your dog! He loves me more now! Mwahahahaha!" Logan cackled, pretending he was a Bond villain.

"Noooo! I want my dog! Let me have my dog!" Angelo wailed. But he couldn't keep it up, and he began giggling uncontrollably. "Help! My dog's heart has been stolen! Thief! Call the police! Call the army! Call the MI5!" Angelo pointed at Logan dramatically, and they giggled. Angelo collapsed onto the sofa, giggling. Pepsi went over to Angelo and started whining for him. "Pepsi, you're back! Oh, I love you!" Pepsi jumped on Angelo and licked his stomach, long ticklish licks across his navel. The nerdy boy squealed and giggled like a child, begging for mercy and trying to push away a dog that simply wouldn't quit. Logan switched from Bond villain to news reporter.

"And here we have an adorable little nerd being tickled by his dog, who just won't quit," Logan teased. "But the biggest part of this story is the part where he clearly hasn't been tickled enough. So I'll have to help. Excuse me." Logan pounced on Angelo and went right for the hips. The screams of laughter were delicious. Neck raspberries, in particular, were something Logan loved giving to the cutie.

"GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! LOGAN!" Angelo howled, as he tried to get away from the dog and boyfriend. "NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! BABE!"

"Don't 'babe' me!" Logan playfully chided. Angelo laughed hysterically as ten tickling fingers dove into his armpits.

"YAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! STOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOP! PLEASE!" Angelo begged, his face turning red with embarrassment and exertion.

"You're lucky you're cute when you're exhausted," Logan sighed. "Pepsi, off!" Pepsi got off of Angelo's chest, and Angelo caught his breath.

"You stopped," Angelo mumbled, half asleep.

"I did."

Angelo blushed. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." _So cute._

"Are you two OK? I heard screaming," Roselle asked, standing on the staircase.

"We're fine," Logan called, as Angelo sat there, blushing.

"Thank you, person that doesn't live here," Angelo's mother replied, going back upstairs. Logan petted Angelo before kissing him witless.

"Bye, baby boy," Logan sighed. "I'll see you at school." As he walked out, Angelo watched him leave.

"Bye," Angelo muttered.

* * *

At home, Logan watched the video with a smile. "Cutie."


	45. Good news

_Tuesday, July 30th_

* * *

When Logan was picking Angelo up at his house, the redhead saw that Angelo looked very happy. "What's gotten into you, huh?"

"I have to go to physical therapy after school," Angelo sighed. "It's uncomfortable, but so are the crutches."

"So you'll be able to walk properly," Logan realized. He felt happy for Angelo, he truly did, but he was going to miss walking Angelo to and from school. He just loved helping him.

"Angelo, I'll walk you home before you get that nasty physical therapy," Logan sweet-talked.

"Thank you," Angelo muttered, blushing madly.

* * *

Later on, at break, in the little nook in the library, Angelo squealed and giggled as Logan snuggled closer to him, covering him in hickeys.

"Shush now, honey, you're in a library and you should be quiet here," Logan teased. "Now, shush. Let me do what I want."

"How do you expect me to do that when you're - hahahaha!" Angelo's voice was cut off when he felt fingers on his sides. The squeaks and giggles were music to his ears.

"Boys! Quiet down! Silence in the library! And get off each other, too!" the librarian snapped. Logan blushed madly, looking away.

"Sorry, miss," Angelo apologized. The librarian muttered something under his breath before going back to her desk. Angelo grinned at Logan, who was now thoroughly embarrassed.

"Angelo, you are one hell of a little brat," Logan muttered.

"Thank you."

* * *

Logan waited until lunch to teach Angelo a lesson. He thought that would be the best time. His baby boy would be so cute whimpering and begging for mercy in front of everyone.

"Guess who this is?" he teased.

"My brain on drugs?" Angelo replied. Logan didn't quite register the insult.

"No, silly, it's your boy-" Then the weight of Angelo's words truly hit him. "You little brat!" Logan snapped. "Oh, I'm going to teach you a lesson, you little - EEP!" Angelo grabbed him and placed him down into a chair. Logan had forgotten that even if his quiet boyfriend's leg was still healing, that didn't say anything about his arms. He was retaught that the hard way.

"Now who's a little brat, huh?" Angelo taunted. Logan blushed madly, feeling like a pathetic plaything.

"I-I am," he whispered.

"So cute," Angelo mocked, letting a finger wrap around a lock of red hair. "Are you going to be a good boy, and not a brat?"

"Yes," Logan whimpered. "I can be good."

"Aww, you precious redheaded baby," Angelo sighed. "Are you gonna quiet down and eat?" Angelo smirked as Logan nodded, letting him go so he could eat properly.

"You little brat."

* * *

At the end of the day, they left together, Angelo blushing as he felt his body being played with. Dammit, Logan's hands just didn't stay still, gliding up and down his body. He was so perverted.

"Do you need to take a break?" Logan asked.

"No," Angelo replied, blushing madly as a hand rubbed up and down the inside of his leg.

"OK, we'll keep going. Sweet, precious little boy, loves to be my little toy. Sweet, precious little boy, loves to be my little toy. Sweet, precious little boy, loves to be my little toy." Angelo blushed as Logan continued chanting, the chant getting louder and louder.

"Babe, you're getting loud," Angelo muttered.

"And I don't care. I love you, Angelo Riva, and the whole world is going to know," Logan replied. "So, how do you wanna play it: quiet or loud?"

"Umm, maybe . . . quiet?" Angelo asked.

"OK. I'll take you upstairs to your room, where I'll make sure we're nice and quiet," Logan decided. Angelo let out a squeak, which Logan ignored in favour of eyeing up and toying with his boyfriend's belt buckle.

"Come on, babe," Angelo squeaked. "I need to get home now."

"Fine," Logan sighed, taking Angelo home to a happy mother.

"Thank you, Logan, you sweet boy," Roselle cooed. "Angelo, we have about an hour. How about you get a snack and a drink and then we go to the car?"

"OK, _Mamma_ (1). Bye, Logan," Angelo replied, going to get himself a snack from the cupboard. He picked out a bag of cookies, and solemnly chewed on one before stuffing the bag into his pockets and getting a reusable water bottle to drink from.

"Angelo, are you finished?" Roselle asked.

"Yes," Angelo replied. "I can go with you."

"Then get in the car," Roselle replied. Angelo got in and watched as the surroundings moved from the backseat of the car. "Angelo, don't be scared of the physiotherapist, he won't hurt you."

"I know he won't hurt me," Angelo muttered. "I'm not a baby, you know. You don't need to baby me."

"I know, but I'm so glad to have you back so I'm going to keep you nice and safe, like a cute little baby," Roselle teased.

"I'm not cute."

"I'm sure Logan would say otherwise."

_"Mamma!"_

"Just kidding, honey. Anyway, just relax and let the doctor do his job. I love you."

"I love you, too. Now come on. You'll be late." They went in and they waited in the lobby. Angelo hated this part, the steady build-up of anxiety. It always killed him that he would later be subjected to hysterical tickling for at least an hour. He squirmed constantly, to the point that he had to be held by a larger male assistant.

"Angelo Riva to Examination Room 3," an assistant called. Angelo went in, his mother staying behind. He went in, only to find that he was with the now dreaded Doctor Kenneth Prince.

"Good day, Angelo. Get onto the table," Kenneth greeted, his tone firm but gentle. "Get yourself ready and please stay still."

"Yes, doctor," Angelo replied, taking off the boot and rolling up the trouser leg. He braced himself for the tickling sensation, but he felt something . . . soothing. The hands that taunted him were now soothing and rubbing, and he let out a sigh. "That . . . feels good."

"Makes a change from you giggling and begging," Kenneth teased. "Now, let me know if anything hurts." The kneading continues, and he purred. It just felt so good, and he felt himself drifting off. The doctor became nervous once his hands reached the fracture site, but Angelo didn't notice.

"So, nothing hurts?" Kenneth asked.

"No."

"Angelo, look at me and say it doesn't hurt."

"It honestly doesn't." There was no deception in Angelo's eyes. He was telling the truth.

"Angelo, I'm happy to say that you no longer need crutches. You can walk without them now, but you still need to take it easy," Kenneth replied. He watched as Angelo began smiling, and then squealing with glee as he squirmed in his seat. "Now, could you walk from one end of the room to the other without the crutches?" Angelo smiled as he got up, his smile becoming wider when he realized that there was no pain when he put weight on it. He walked quite happily and easily to the other side of the room, and then back to the table. Kenneth nodded and then made a decision.

"You really don't need crutches any more," Kenneth replied. "Congratulations, Angelo. But remember, you still need to take it easy."

"Thank you," Angelo replied, squealing and giggling as he left, holding the crutches in his hands. His mother was pleasantly surprised.

"Angelo, use your crutches!" Roselle chided.

"I don't need them anymore!" Angelo babbled, an infectious smile on his face. "He said so! He really did!"

"Oh, honey, that's great!" Roselle cooed. "But maybe you should wear a shoe on that foot. We need to go outside now."

"Great. So even though I don't need crutches anymore, I still need crutches," Angelo groaned. Roselle laughed all the way to the car.

* * *

When they got home, Angelo just . . . took some time to relax. He liked being able to flex his toes, to stretch out his legs. It felt . . . nice. He felt like his life was getting better and everything was going to improve. He wanted to talk about it to someone.

So he talked to Logan about it.

A: _Logan, I have some great news!_

L: _What is it?_

A: _I don't need crutches anymore! I can walk and hold your hand at the same time! It's amazing!_

L: _Congratulations!_

Although he loved that Angelo wasn't using crutches anymore, he was going to miss being the gentleman boyfriend that made him Angelo's hero. But he couldn't hold that against him. All he would have to do was make sure that he was there for him, no matter what.

* * *

Translation

1: Mom/Mum. Italian.


	46. On TV

_Time skip: from Monday, July 29th to Saturday, August 3rd_

* * *

Angelo waited in a TV studio, with an assistant. He looked around the grey studio room, astounded. This place seemed familiar. He remembered being there when he was younger, but his mother and father were with him then. He checked himself out in a full-length mirror, the same black jacket and trousers and grey shirt that he had worn to the Invention Convention. His hair looked neat, his face was washed, his nails were trimmed, his clothes fit well (looser than before, for some reason) everything looked great. Then why did he feel like a mess?

"Feeling nervous?" the assistant, a young woman with long red hair asked. Angelo looked at her with horror. The memories of being taken flooded back for a moment before shaking them off.

"Fine, thank you," Angelo stammered, plastering a fake smile on his face. "It's OK." The assistant nodded and left. She had an odd feeling about that kid.

"Angelo, don't worry," Merle Moore assured. She'd come to meet him backstage, like she always did with her interviewees. "You've done this before."

"As a kid. I'm not sure that I could do it now I'm older," Angelo sighed.

"I'm sure you'll be great," Merle reassured. "Just relax and answer my questions. Oh, and try not to be surprised by the people who want to visit." Angelo was confused.

"Wait, who?"

"That would be telling," she teased. "Someone will come and get you when I need to." Merle looked at Angelo with a grin on her face. "Don't worry about it."

"Can I . . . see what's going on?" Angelo asked.

"Again, that would be telling," Merle teased, then leaving. Angelo was all alone, in a small room. He hated it. It reminded him of the base, being left in a small room. He tried to calm himself down by justifying to himself why it wasn't the same as his cell.

It's OK. They didn't let you have that chair you're sitting on in the base, so it can't be the base. And that table wasn't there, either. But that wasn't helping matters. He began hyperventilating, curling up into a ball on the floor. An intern heard crying and went over to investigate, and found Angelo was a mess.

"Oh my god!" He hugged Angelo as he struggled to get his breathing under control. "What happened?"

"I'm sorry . . . I just don't like being left in small rooms. It reminds me of those days," Angelo babbled.

"Did your parents come with you?" he asked.

"Yes," Angelo said, blushing. "It's OK. You don't need to tell them, er . . ." He trailed off once he realized that he didn't know his name. "I'm so sorry. I don't know your name."

"I'm Sammy," he replied.

"I'm Angelo Riva. Pleasure to meet you, sir," Angelo introduced, sticking out a hand for him to shake. Sammy shook it, looking at Angelo as if he was amazing.

"Angelo? I think my boss told me about you," Sammy replied, turning pale. "You're here for an interview with Merle, right? About the . . . abduction . . . thing?"

"Yes," Angelo replied.

"Oh my god, I saw you on the news," Sammy replied. Angelo looked through him, feeling sick. Any reminder of the news brought back memories of reporters asking questions, ambushing them wherever they went for the sake of answers. He felt sick.

"I think everyone has," Angelo sighed, forcing down the feeling of nausea.

" . . . And we've got him in the studio right now. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you for the second time on this show, Angelo Riva," Merle introduced, to the sound of applause.

"I have to go. See you, Sammy," Angelo called to Sammy, walking over and seeing a packed audience full of people applauding for him. He scanned the crowd in order to see his parents, and then he saw them, smiling and waving at their son. He beamed and waved back to them.

"So, Angelo, how are you doing?" she greeted, all warm and inviting as they shook hands and sat down. "You remember me, don't you?"

"Partly," Angelo replied. "I don't really remember physically being in the interview, but I remember watching it on my phone. Sitting backstage in the studio felt familiar. I recognize your voice, but I don't know if that's because of me being at the actual interview or me watching a recording of the interview."

"What sort of person do I remind you of?" Merle asked. She was expecting a straight answer. She was wrong.

"You're like one of those relatives your parents introduce you to when you're too young to properly remember and then reintroduce you to them when you're older. Then they somehow expect you to remember them perfectly." Roselle sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose at her son's answer while Bonaventura and the studio audience laughed. The camera zoomed in on them and their reaction. Merle looked shocked, before schooling her expression into a warm smile.

"Angelo, you silly kid!" Merle teased. "You can't just say that to me! How could you?"

"I'm sorry!" Angelo apologized, giggling. "It was just a long time ago."

"And a lot has happened in that time. Let's run down the list, shall we?" Merle replied.

"There's a list?" Angelo blurted out. He turned red and began staring at the floor, playing with his hair.

"This starts after the interview that you barely remember." This spawned a little laughter from the audience. "First was when you were seven and you'd been accepted into Golden River Academy, a prestigious private school for the brightest of children. Next came you graduating from Golden River Academy at the age of nine, just two years later. When you were ten, and you had just created an engine meant to run on water and solar power. You graduated from that university when you were eleven, and created both a fighting spider robot that won the Under-12s Invention Convention and a bike that could power the home. Nothing significant really happened until Monday, May 26th, 2019, when you were reported as being kidnapped by the New Wave of Intellect. On May 29th, just three days after being reported as being abducted, you were found by an unknown GPS signal leading police to the base, disguised as an abandoned barn being fixed up by developers. Your leg had been broken by a member of the gang as a sort of revenge for notifying the authorities. But there is one thing that we the public don't know. How exactly did you get a GPS signal to the police? I read your letter over and over several times, and you never said how."

"I didn't think the explanation could fit into a letter, no matter how long that letter was . . . so I'm going to have to show you," Angelo replied, fiddling with his watch. Pressing a button, the watch face flipped over and projected a holographic theatre mask that stared down at Merle Moore. Everyone whose surname wasn't Riva gasped, pointing and taking pictures. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like you to meet MAIA. MAIA, meet the lovely ladies and gentlemen in the audience. Specifically, I'd like you to meet Merle Moore."

"Oh my god!" Merle gasped, no longer able to keep a happy persona. This was just unreal. "How did you make this? How?" Angelo giggled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I . . . had a bit of spare time in between my university classes, and I found it hard to keep track of everything sometimes, which was a problem. So I made myself an assistant to help me stay organized and on top of things," Angelo explained, blushing. "MAIA is linked to my phone and is equipped with GPS and a camera, so I could take photos and videos and eventually send a GPS signal to my phone of where it is, and also where I am by extension, because I am wearing the watch."

"Why the name Maia? Why not . . . Charlotte or something?" Merle asked, to the slight laughter of the audience.

"MAIA is an acronym and it stands for My Artificially Intelligent Assistant," Angelo pointed out. "It just seemed to fit. And it's also a pretty name."

"Did you . . . intend to give your assistant a female name?"

"I was never thinking of a gender for MAIA. I was just thinking of a word that makes sense instead of a bunch of random letters that people won't be able to pronounce or remember. It just happened that the letters were in the order of a female name."

"Angelo, are you sure that giving your artificial assistant a human sounding name doesn't give people the wrong idea?"

"Define wrong idea." MAIA spoke up for the first time since the interview began. Merle and several audience members jumped, terrified at the voice.

"It speaks!" Merle barked, giggling along with the audience, who were too scared not to.

"I asked you a question, Merle Moore. Define wrong idea."

"What if they think that you have emotions and that you're able to fall in love with them and they become attracted to you?"

"Merle, if that was possible, Alexa and Siri would never hear the end of it." The audience laughed and applauded, Merle sinking into her seat and blushing.

"I knew installing that artificial intelligence programming was worth it," Angelo laughed.

"Thank you for the vote of confidence, sir," MAIA replied.

"You're welcome," the raven-haired prodigy replied. With that, MAIA retreated back into the watch.

"Anyway, Angelo, I wanted to talk to you about - just - everything that's been going on." Merle let out a sigh of relief at being in control. Angelo looked at her expectantly.

"Where would you like to start?" Angelo asked.

"How about the kidnapping?" Merle retorted. "You said that you remembered it vividly. I'm going to quote your letter here. 'My partner, whose name and gender I shall keep anonymous for their sake, were eating pizza and talking. I don't remember what we were talking about, but I remember laughing and being happy. A man in black clothing and a white mask came in and yelled at us to freeze. We were about to go back to our pizzas, but then he pulled out a gun. He wanted everyone to put their phones on the table. If we did as he said, nobody would get hurt. I got closer to my partner because I was scared. I didn't want to get hurt or die. He got closer to me, really close. I could feel his breath on my face. He asked me my name, and I told him. That was the signal to take me away. Two others came in. They wore black clothing and white masks, like the first guy, and grabbed my arms and dragged me away. I remember screaming at my partner to give my phone to my parents, not to panic and I loved them. They took me to this car and just shoved me in. A rag covered in something sharp and sweet was pressed over my mouth and nose, and my world went black.' Ladies and gentlemen, the sharp, sweet-smelling substance on that rag has been identified by police as . . . chloroform. Angelo, I am so sorry."

"It's OK. You didn't know," Angelo reassured. "It's OK. Take your time."

"Thank you. It's just a bit . . . much," Merle replied. "Tell me about what it was like to stay with them."

"They mostly left me alone to do their work for them, which is what made it so easy for both me and the police. I could take photos of everything I saw and have MAIA transfer them to my phone, which I now know was in police custody and they were going through it in real time. I first thought it was odd that I was left alone so much, since I thought they'd be worried about me escaping or getting help. I also didn't understand why they would want to take me from a pizza place full of people. But now I know that they were so used to kidnapping kids that they had become cocky and overconfident. They just figured that I wouldn't escape or do anything to get out because they'd intimidated the others enough for them to help, so it would work with me. If they thought I was being a brat, they would slap me or punch me. They were more like school bullies making me do their homework than calculating, evil kidnappers that had full control over whether I lived or died. The scariest parts were the beginning and the end, because that was when they were holding guns and it really sunk in that I could die. I could die here and nobody would or could help me, that I might not be rescued in time. Another part that terrified me was being left alone in the room or cell. I'm still conflicted over what to call it. It was small, damp and cold. There were some sandwiches and a bottle of water for food and drink, and a bucket in the corner of the room. I figured that there either was a toilet somewhere and I wasn't allowed to use it or there was never any toilet to begin with. I'm leaning towards the first one."

"I'm gonna ask the million-dollar question. Why did you sabotage their projects, and why did you make that video?" Merle asked, leaning forward in her chair.

"I'm ashamed to say the sabotage was out of rage. It just feels so selfish. I wish I could say that it was out of a desire to get justice for the twelve taken before me, but it wasn't. It was done because I was angry and I wanted their work to be destroyed as payback. They were going to pay for taking me from my family and friends, and I was so angry I didn't care if I died. The video was to explain everything. I thought I was marked for death because they would find out that I was sabotaging them and had brought the police to them. Just before the video had been made and then sent, I had sent the GPS location to my phone and I knew they had guns, so I thought I would be shot once the police came to rescue me. I wanted my parents to know what happened. I didn't think I would be able to speak to them again." A tear rolled down Angelo's face, something the cameras zoomed in on. "I'm so sorry." An assistant came over and handed him a box of tissues. "Thank you. Thank you so much." He blew his nose and wiped his eyes. "I need a minute."

"Take as much time as you need." Merle looked at Angelo as he tried to compose himself. "Would you like to continue?"

"Yes, please," Angelo replied, looking at her with a determined gleam in his eye.

"How was it to be rescued?" Merle asked.

"It was terrifying. Someone was talking into a megaphone and everyone was getting guns to defend themselves and swearing and the words 'lying, mainstream media' were used a lot. The redheaded lady yelled "Who called the police? Who? Who?" Somehow, she just knew it was me, and she put a gun to my head. She made me go into the room I stayed in and locked the door. There were screams and sounds of people fighting the police, and eventually, it became eerily quiet. I was scared witless. I called for help, but nobody came. Then this guy came in, the biggest guy I've ever seen. He screamed about how I could have possibly thought it was that easy and then he just . . . busted through the door. I don't know how he did it, he just did. He punched me constantly, and I punched him back. I collapsed eventually, I don't know how long it took, and then he kicked my leg and my leg was filled with pain, a hot pain that filled my leg like fire. Then the police came in and saved me. He was on the floor and had handcuffs on his wrists, and I was taken to an ambulance at the same time the redheaded lady was being taken away in handcuffs. I call her the redheaded lady because I don't know her name. I'm sorry about the repetitiveness of my speech."

"For your information, ladies and gentlemen, the name of the redheaded lady is Susan Harding. She and her associates are yet to be sentenced due to the number of crimes that have been committed across multiple countries," Merle replied. "Until then, they have been kept in prison until the day of their trial." Angelo sank back into their chair, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"That's good. OK. That's good. OK," Angelo repeated. His eyes were glassy, looking at nothing. Merle looked at her guest with concern.

"Are you all right? We can take a break if you want," the news host offered. Angelo seemed to slowly recognize what was going on, and came out of the trance.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just . . . zoned out for a second." He forced himself to focus on Merle, not the cameras. "I'm ready to answer another question."

"What was the hardest part of having a broken leg?" Merle asked.

"I can't hold my partner's hand because I have to use them to hold two crutches," Angelo replied.

"Aww," gushed the crowd.

"That's my boy right there, being so smooth," Bonaventura quietly bragged. The smug smile on his face would quickly become a meme.

"Anything else?" Merle teased.

"Second is the dependency and the guilt that accompanies it. I should be able to get down stairs myself. I should be able to walk myself to school. But I can't do any of that."

"Speaking of walking yourself to school, you said that your partner would walk you to and from school," the news host said, talking over more cooing. "I haven't got the time to use a direct quote, since it is rather long, but you said in your letter that they went to visit you in hospital every day, brought you gifts from well-wishers, talked to you about the outside world and also told you about the video being leaked. You have a sweet partner, and here's the other million-dollar question the world is talking about: do you have a girlfriend or a boyfriend?"

"How is this important? I'm fifteen living in the UK, a country where the age of consent is sixteen. If this is what the world is talking about, then I think the world needs to get a life and get its head out of the gutter," Angelo replied, as people laughed. "This is actually really uncomfortable."

"I can respect that, so I'll change the subject. Could you tell me how it felt to hear about the video?"

"I freaked out. I didn't know how or why they had gotten a copy of the video I'd made. I'd sent it to the police so my parents could see it when I died. I never uploaded it to the internet, so how was it there? I remember crying and being held by my partner, feeling like I'd been exploited."

"How did your classmates react?"

"They were really nice to me, much nicer than I thought anyone would be. They came to see me in hospital and signed my cast and were generally very supportive. I was bullied at Golden River Academy and this niceness was . . ." He paused to chuckle dryly. "God, they're amazing. It felt foreign because I wasn't used to it, but I eventually knew they considered me a friend. I know I only went there because I was pretending to be a normal fifteen-year-old, but the friendship and acceptance they showed me wasn't them pretending. If I can be half as good a person as the friends I made there, I'll die happy. So here's to my friends at Willowdale, the only friends I ever had in an educational setting. My arrival wasn't planned, but I'm glad I met you." There was a round of applause. His parents wiped tears away.

"What was the first sign that this was bigger than you realized?" Merle's expression was serious.

"The arrest of Maxwell Norwood-Sykes. We went to school together and he was in some of my classes. The day of his arrest was my first day back at school and I was just finding my feet again. It was PE, and I was sitting out of the lesson along with Maxwell. He was sitting on the bench with me. It was pretty boring until the police came and talked to the teacher and the teacher called for Maxwell. The police officers talked to Maxwell, and next thing I know, he's being arrested for my kidnapping and handcuffed and taken away and he's crying and people are booing as he gets taken away to a car."

"What other signs were there?"

"The other arrests of everyone involved, the informants who gave information that led to the kidnappings and the rich people who gave money, both of them doing their best to keep themselves at arm's length from their new shady buddies. There seemed to be more people getting arrested every day. I remember seeing headlines on the news and on the front of newspapers whenever I found myself inside of a convenience shop. I've lost count of the number of arrests, to be honest. How many has it been again?"

"I don't think anyone knows anymore, Angelo. You're not the only one here," Merle replied. Angelo laughed, blushing as the audience giggled.

"That's actually a relief," the black-haired robotics prodigy sighed. "But at the same time, very worrying."

"I don't want to just talk about the trials. I also want to talk about stuff that happened in the meantime. Like that horrible video of you and Anita Crap," Merle Moore replied, to the laughter of the audience. "Stop laughing, ladies and gentlemen, that's her name. Anyway, a video was taken and uploaded to the internet by another reporter of her asking you questions and you just firing back these amazing quotes. Then you were trying to get away from her and she was trying to pull you over to her, but she pulled too hard and you fell."

"I was trying to get to school and she was just asking questions," Angelo replied. "But I'd had too many questions. It was loud and crowded and I remembered being overwhelmed and scared. I wanted to get to school and get away from her and people that pestered me like her. I don't really remember what I said, but I remember that I'd refused to talk to her. Then I felt something grab onto my clothing and pull, and I fell to the floor. My partner helped me up and I went inside. Everything got so much louder, but I tried not to think about it."

"Angelo, there was also another video. An interview, but not by you, by another teenager identifying themselves as . . . Rosario Riva." The pause in her words made some of the audience members giggle. "Angelo, is this a coincidence or do you know this person?"

"Yes. He's my cousin."

"But he says he's your nonidentical twin brother."

"He isn't. He is my father's brother's son, making him my cousin and his dad my uncle. I don't have a twin sibling."

"Is there any proof that he isn't?" Merle asked.

"I'd be willing to do a DNA test to prove it, if you want," Angelo replied.

"Hey, I'll do you one better," Bonaventura replied, standing up and getting onto the stage to cheers and applause. "Hello there, Merle Moore. I am Bonaventura Riva, Angelo Riva's father, and unlike my son, I can actually remember the last time I was here." Laughter erupted through the studio, and Angelo blushed madly. "As his father, I can confirm that my son does not have a twin brother, identical or otherwise. My proof of that is that I was there at the birth and if he had a twin, I would have seen it and promptly gone insane."

"Dad!" Angelo whined.

"Seriously, he hacked a vending machine so it gave him free food. God knows what his twin would have done," Bonaventura replied. "Anyway, I'm done embarrassing my son for now. Bye!" He waved to the audience before going back to his seat. Angelo blushed, squirming in his seat.

"Angelo, is that true?" Merle teased.

"I was hungry," Angelo muttered, his face beet red. Merle cooed at him.

"Who knew Angelo Riva could be rebellious?" she teased. Angelo chuckled and toyed with the sleeve of his jacket. "Anyway, back to business. About this video of him, it showed you literally walking in on the interview being conducted. How did that make you feel?"

"Confused. How and why is my cousin in front of my house? How did he get there? Why are there people talking to him? Shouldn't he be in school? To be there by 3:00, which is when I was getting home with my partner, meant he'd have had to get out of school early to be there by now."

"I know this is hard to believe, ladies and gentlemen, but here are the highlights of the insane footage captured by The Whistling Comet." The cameras faded out to the video, which, for Rosario, was damning.

"Rosario, you are in so much trouble," Valerio Riva muttered, as he watched the tape. Carmen and Gisella ate popcorn as they watched their brother's internet demise.

"Honestly, this video gets better and better," Merle replied, once it was over.

"For me, it gets worse and worse. The house he's in front of is my house. He led media people to my house, and that's something I can't forgive," Angelo replied.

"And this isn't even the last video I want to show you. Then there is a video of a respected psychic, Sullivan Steel, predicting that you would be found by police after a month, dead by a gunshot wound," the brunette replied. Words could not describe how pissed Angelo looked.

"So, according to someone named Sullivan Steel, I should be dead," Angelo speculated. "But instead I'm here, being clearly not dead. Sullivan Steel said that I would die. What are you going to tell me next? Am I going to hear that he made bets on how many bullet wounds I would have? And how am I only hearing about this now?"

"This is the first time you're hearing about this?" Merle asked. Angelo nodded. "I'm so sorry you had to find out this way."

"It's not your fault. It's his fault for being so cold about this and feeding people such lies," the inventor sighed, trying to stay calm. "How many other people has he done this to? People claiming to be psychics are just vultures, preying on the desperate."

"Scary stuff," Merle agreed. "And that's it for now. But stay tuned for the next part, where we continue with the interview and introduce Angelo Riva to some very interesting people. Goodbye for now, ladies and gentlemen!" The audience applauded politely, Angelo jumping at the noise before awkwardly smiling as the cameras faded.

"Angelo, are you OK?" Merle asked, as the boy's parents rushed over. "Angelo, talk to me. You worried me quite a lot, kid."

"I'm sorry. It's just . . . seeing everything all laid out makes it all so much more real," Angelo explained. "Before, I just pretended to myself that it was just a vivid bad dream, but now I have to face facts. This happened, and I hate it. Why can't I just get over it? Why?"

"That's going to take some time, Angelo," Bonaventura sighed. "Now hush and let me hold you." Before Angelo could say anything, Bonaventura took his son and held him, nice and tight. This felt nice. Angelo allowed himself to be held properly, his muscles relaxing.

"Thank you," Angelo mumbled into his father's chest.

"Angelo, come here," Roselle replied. Angelo walked over to his mother, who cooed and stroked him as she looked up into his green eyes, green like hers.

They _were_ hers.

"Angelo, I hope that you can eventually find peace," Merle sighed. Angelo sighed, quietly loving the affection. "We've got another five minutes. You can take some time to recover in this commercial break."

"Angelo, you're being so calm and collected," Roselle replied, petting her son's hair.

"I wish Mirella and Santo could see this," Angelo muttered.

"You know she's too young, and Santo couldn't make it," Roselle told her son.

"And also Pepsi."

"Ugh," Bonaventura groaned.

* * *

When the interview started again, Merle jumped straight into asking Angelo about the trial of Maxwell Norwood-Sykes. "Were you there for the trial, by any chance?"

"Yes," Angelo replied. "I was there to give my victim impact statement. I saw everything."

"In your letter, you said: 'I watched his face change from start to finish; apprehensive at first, then smug as he thought he would be found not guilty, submissive and nodding along with what his lawyer said, and then just wallowing in self-pity.' How did you feel about him pleading 'not guilty' to the charges?" Merle questioned.

"It was a total slap to the face. That was the only reason I was there at all, really," Angelo divulged. "Because of him, this got dragged out into a whole trial, where evidence was shown that made me wish that I hadn't even got up out of bed. I should have stayed in bed with my dog licking me in the face."

"That is an adorable way to wake up," Merle replied. Angelo smiled, thinking of that morning with his dog.

* * *

_Flashback to that morning_

_Angelo was busy sleeping, his bed being a safe haven that let him dream and rest. He was going to have to learn to love his bed again, and this was going to help. He was sleeping peacefully in his bed when Pepsi came in, wagging his tail happily. He loved mornings, when he went in and stuck his face underneath his master's shirt and started licking him. He loved when Angelo giggled and he tried to push him away. It was just like his training by the older one before he went away._

_"Pepsi! Off! Off! Stop that!" Angelo giggled. "Help me!"_

_"Angelo, is the dog picking on you?" Bonaventura teased._

_"Daaad!" Angelo whined, squirming and giggling hysterically as the Golden Retriever pinned him down and licked and snuggled his beloved boy._

_"Hold still, Angelo, let your daddy save you," Bonaventura teased. Angelo blushed as his dad had to drag the dog off him. "Get up and get changed. You have an interview to get to."_

_"Can I come?" Mirella asked._

_"Mirella, if you're going to come, I can't let you watch the interview. The stuff they're talking about is very scary. You can only be there if you're a grown-up," Angelo explained._

_"Then why are you going?" she snapped. Bonaventura laughed hysterically, as Angelo began blushing and shooed Mirella out of his room._

_"Mirella, I need to change," Angelo muttered, shutting the door and making his father laugh even more._

_"That's my girl!" Bonaventura laughed._

_End flashback_

"Now, I hate to interrupt your daydream, but I need to talk to you about your views on Maxwell. Not as your betrayer, but as a classmate. How was he?"

Angelo let out a sigh. "He was someone that made it clear if he liked you or not. To me specifically, he tried to be nice. But to others, he was snobby and cold, and I didn't like it, so I didn't associate with him. Then he was cold to me, and started making fun of me. He's the person behind a picture of me kissing my partner being uploaded to the school website." Small gasps could be heard from the audience.

"That is awful," Merle replied, as Angelo looked down, embarrassed. He hated that the world knew about this, this shame of his that he was embarrassed and worried about. What if someone found out that his 'partner' was Logan, and that he was a boy? What he was hated and someone tried to hurt them again?

"In your letter, you said: 'As I listened to Maxwell give his statement, I quietly seethed. He was regurgitating what his lawyer said: that he was just an immature teenager who got mad and did a stupid thing that got him arrested. Maxwell's defence was that if he was convicted, his life would be ruined and he shouldn't have to pay for his immature mistakes. He would suffer just as much as 'the victim and his loved ones'. He didn't even call me Angelo. Just 'the victim'.' How do you think Maxwell got to that conclusion?"

"I think Maxwell is just a very spoiled, entitled person who didn't want to be held accountable for his actions. Just look at how he did this. When it got to the point that he was tired of me being in his life, he just sent someone to get rid of me, like I was a piece of furniture he didn't like the look of anymore."

"Maxwell Norwood-Sykes was later found guilty and sentenced to fifteen years in prison. And what do you think about him getting fifteen years in prison? You told The Cannon that you thought the verdict was 'perfect'. Do you still think that way?"

"Interesting take on it. At first, I was just glad that we'd gotten a little bit of justice. Finally someone involved was going to be serving time. But now I think about it, that's an awful lot of time in prison for a fifteen-year-old boy who'd never committed a crime before. Assuming that he serves out every single minute of his sentence, he won't be released until he's thirty, meaning he will have spent half of his life in jail. Half of his life. I know he's guilty as all hell, but that's still a long time, considering he was so young."

"Angelo, is there anything you'd like to say to Maxwell, if you could?"

"I think I said everything I needed to say when I read my witness statement. I remember him not daring to look at me and just staring down at the floor. I couldn't tell if he was crying, but the tears were certainly flowing when he went up to say a few words. He said he was pleading for mercy, and really focused on how badly this would affect his life if he was sent to prison. He wouldn't be able to be a normal functioning citizen if he was given a custodial sentence. He was sorry he was caught, not that he did it."

"Angelo, that's all I have to ask you. Now I need to introduce you to several people. One of them is very familiar with your case, and specifically requested to meet you. Ladies and gentlemen, Chief Inspector Clark Starling," Merle replied. The officer walked in to the sound of applause from a live studio audience, and he basked in it for a second. But he needed to keep up appearances. He went over to Angelo and extended a hand, which Angelo shook.

"Angelo Riva, your case was a case like no other," Clark started. "The abduction that took place in a room filled with witnesses was something that was rare, but the hostage sending evidence to the police themselves and eventually sending us their location is nothing short of astounding. I know you think that it's selfish, but your actions weren't self-centred, not in the slightest. Your actions helped bust a gang that had been in operation for thirteen years across the world, along with their informants and their donors, none of which we even knew about until this abduction. You, Angelo Riva, are a hero." The audience applauded as Angelo reddened, squirming in his seat. He felt he didn't deserve this, but it felt nice.

"Angelo, we at the Metropolitan Police Force wish to thank you. You have made our job so much easier, and helped bring so many people to justice. So, for your troubles, here is a gift of £2,500." Two other police officers walked in with a huge novelty cheque of £2,500. Angelo's eyes grew wide at the sight and the amount of the cheque. His head spun, and he had to sit down before he fainted.

"Angelo, are you OK?" Merle asked, giggling as she looked at the raven-haired boy, who was in shock.

"Merle . . . is that for me?" Angelo asked, his eyes wide.

"But it's so much. Do I really need that much?"

"You deserve that much." The crowd roared, as Angelo teared up.

"C-can I take that?" Angelo asked. Clark nodded and gave Angelo the cheque. Angelo nodded and took the cheque, going up to where his parents were sitting in the audience. " _Mamma_ (1), _Papa_ (2), this is yours now."

"No, Angelo, this is not how money works," Bonaventura sighed, as audience members cooed and clapped and shed tears. "This is yours, kid. This is for you."

"Right? Mine?" Angelo asked, smiling the cutest smile.

"Yes, Angelo, this is all yours. Spend it however you want," Roselle told him. Angelo's eyes lit up, hugging them.

"I still think this is a lot of money. Could you please donate it to a children's charity on my behalf with the money?" Angelo asked.

"Thank you. That's very kind of you. Give it up for Angelo Riva, ladies and gentlemen," Merle replied. "What charity are you thinking of?"

"Umm . . . the NSPCC?" Angelo suggested.

"So it's sorted," Merle replied. "Can you have the amount mentioned transferred to the NSPCC?"

"Of course. We can do that. Thank you, Mr Riva."

"I'm sorry, but you must be mistaken. Mr Riva's my dad. I'm just his son, Angelo Riva. Sir, before you go, could you answer a question I have? It's been bugging me for a while."

"Yes, of course," Clark said.

"If someone commits crimes in multiple different countries, when they are eventually caught, where does the criminal go to be sentenced and where do they live out their time in jail?"

"The country of their birth. For most of them, that is the UK. But for the informants, the people that hid them, the people that financed them, the UK will not be where they live out their sentence."

"Oh. Thank you, sir. It was a pleasure to meet you," Angelo replied. Clark Starling saluted Angelo and left, the audience cheering.

"Well, that was Chief Inspector Clark Starling, but we have to move on from there. We have several more people here to meet you. They need no introduction. Here they are now. Ladies and gentlemen, please give these people and their translators a warm welcome." They walked out, and Angelo's face turned white.

It was the twelve other abduction survivors that had gathered to visit him. They stood before him, like guardian angels.

"Hello," Angelo mumbled, in even more shock. "Is this real? Tell me this is real."

"This is real, Angelo," Erzulie replied, with a strong Caribbean accent. Angelo noticed with a start that her hand was metal. "We just wanted to say thank you. What you have done has rocked the whole world. People getting arrested has become over a hundred."

"Also, we need to get onto the important stuff. How did you make the watch?" Kavi asked.

"Kavi!" they yelled.

"We're all thinking it," Kavi replied.

"I like you, Kavi," Angelo grinned.

"See? The new kid likes me! Ha!" Kavi grinned.

"Angelo, I have to warn you, Kavi Sharma is the crazy one of the group," Lan Jiang said.

"So he really is like me!" Angelo giggled.

"Congratulations. We found another one that is insane," Nadeen groaned. "That is now four."

"Me, Kavi, and . . . who are the other two supposed to be?" Angelo asked.

"Oscar and Ada," Nadeen pointed out, slipping her hand under her hijab to play with a coil of black hair.

"Crazy? How dare you?" Ada gasped. "We just want to make fighting robots."

"Fighting robots?" Angelo asked, terrified. "Why would you want fighting robots?"

"Why not?" Ada asked. Oscar looked at him and decided that Angelo needed a more gentle touch.

"Angelo, my apologies about my sister," Oscar apologised. He had a thick German accent with a high-pitched voice. "She's just happy to meet you. She read your open letter, much like most of the world. I have a few questions for you about it."

"Ask away," Angelo replied, a little less nervous.

"Did they beat you?"

"A few slaps and punches here and there when I was being too much of a brat, but the most significant injury was the broken leg," Angelo replied.

"Did you see money?" Eric asked. His accent wasn't as thick, but still rather high-pitched. Walking over to Angelo, it became clear that he was much taller than Angelo was, and Angelo was six feet tall. "When I was there, they had big piles of money, lots of different types of money from lots of countries."

"I didn't see money. Saw a lot of guns, though. They had a whole room of them," Angelo replied. "That's probably where the money went."

"Did they leave you in a room that is small and damp and cold too?" Ebony asked. Her hair was black, which explained her name, possibly. Her eyes were blue-grey.

"Did you see the gun-car?" Axel asked. He was blond with blue eyes, also towering over Angelo. Then they all decided to overload the boy with questions.

"Were you allowed outside?" Ryan asked.

"Did they move you?" Lan interrogated.

"Did you see the doctor lady?" Khadeeja asked.

"Yes, yes, no, no, and I'm not sure if she was a real doctor," Angelo replied. "She had a white coat and she diagnosed me with fatigue from lack of nourishment and I didn't do any more work that day. I was hungry, but I wasn't really fatigued. I only pretended to be fatigued to get out of there."

"All that time, people were worried about you and you were just scamming them out of food?" Kavi asked.

"Yes," Angelo replied.

"Yes!" Kavi yelled, hugging the boy. "The little one is a scheming mastermind!"

"Little one?" Angelo asked, looking down at Kavi, who was half a foot smaller than him. He was taller than most of them, despite being the youngest. "How old are you all? You look much older than the pictures."

"We're twenty," Ada and Oscar chorused. From there, he was greeted by shouting of random ages.

"Enough! You're talking over each other! I can't hear any of you!" Angelo snapped. They shut up, shocked. "The Engel twins are twenty. How old are the rest of you? Um, Khadeeja? I hope I said your name right. I'm so sorry if I didn't."

"You were right about the name. I am seventeen years old," Khadeeja said.

"Is anyone else seventeen?" Angelo asked. Ryan Llewellyn raised his hand. "So Khadeeja and Ryan are seventeen. Anyone here sixteen?"

"I am! Me!" Kavi replied.

"Kavi is sixteen. Khadeeja and Ryan are seventeen. Anybody eighteen?" Angelo asked. Lan, Nadeen and Axel raised their hands. "Nineteen?" Brianna, Eric and Ebony raised their hands. "Other than Oscar and Ada, is anyone twenty or above?"

"I'm twenty-one. That means I am older than all of you," Erzulie sighed. "As the oldest, Angelo and Kavi aren't allowed to be left alone together ever again."

"Aww!" Angelo and Kavi whined.

"I just want to meet the robot hologram watch! I wanna see the cool robot again!" Kavi replied. Angelo pressed the buttons on his watch, and MAIA's holographic projection towered over them.

"MAIA, I'd like you to meet some new friends of mine," Angelo smiled. The teenagers gaped at the holographic robot assistant looking down at them.

"Who are these people?" MAIA asked.

"This is Kavi Sharma," Angelo replied. Kavi waved at MAIA like a child.

"Hi, MAIA! Hello!" Kavi replied, giggling. "MAIA, you are so cool!"

"Thank you," MAIA replied. She showed Kavi a holographic 3D picture of him jumping up and down. "This shall be your identification picture for future reference." Erzulie laughed hysterically.

"It don't even look human!" she laughed. Eric was more professional about it.

"Hello, er . . . MAIA. I am Eric Nussbaum," Eric introduced. A picture was taken of him, more professional looking than Kavi's. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," MAIA replied. "Would anyone else like a photograph?" They queued up for their photos, something that would become an iconic moment and a meme. One, by one, they were photographed until they got to Kavi again. "Kavi Sharma, would you like to redo your photograph?"

"Yes. I'll stay still this time," Kavi promised. He kept his word, and he stayed still in order to produce a picture of much better quality. "I still look awful!" Kavi complained.

"I can't help that, Kavi; that's just how your face looks," Angelo replied. Roselle laughed.

"That's my son, there, taking no prisoners," she boasted.

"You know, maybe this little one isn't so bad once you get past the fact that he is worse than the boy who hacked the school mainframe to alter his grades," Axel replied.

"You did WHAT?!" Angelo yelped.

"I thought you'd find it cool! You made a bunch of gangsters give you more food while you broke everything! You are my idol, you know that?" Kavi kneeled at Angelo's feet. "Teach me your ways!"

"Oh, no," Erzulie moaned.

"I need your phone number!" Kavi begged.

"I . . . would like to have your phone numbers, actually," Angelo admitted. Phones were pulled out and numbers exchanged, which took a while since there were twelve other numbers they needed to put into their phone.

"See, honey, I knew we didn't need to worry about Angelo making friends," Bonaventura replied.

"Shut up!" Roselle snapped.

"Well, isn't that just typical of teenagers? These teenagers are from all over the world, but they still know what it means to get out your phone and get their number," Merle joked. The audience laughed. "I'm sorry, but I have to end it there. Goodbye, everybody!"

"Goodbye, ladies and gentlemen!" the geniuses chorused. Once the cameras turned off, they breathed a sigh of relief.

"So I guess that's over," Angelo sighed. "Meeting you guys was so cool. We can talk by phone, can't we?"

"And also by Instagram," Kavi replied.

"Yes," Erzulie replied. "Now all the important stuff is done, I want to know about how you managed to make that watch."

"I knew that was what everyone was thinking!" Kavi yelled.

"You have my number; text me," Angelo laughed.

"See you guys around, I guess. My sister and I have planes to catch," Oscar replied.

"Me too," Nadeen excused. Everyone but Angelo muttered something in agreement.

"I have to go home sometime soon," Angelo said. "Wait. I'll go ask my parents."

"Your parents?" Axel asked.

"I'm fifteen; I can't drive," the Italian pointed out.

"Ohh," the other twelve chorused. Angelo went over to his parents and asked them if they were going to go home.

" _Papa_ , when do you think we - WHOA!" Angelo was scooped up into a hug.

"That's my boy," he sobbed, tears staining his son's suit. "Oh my god. Angelo, I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you," Angelo muttered, tearing up himself.

" _Mio bambino_ (3)," Roselle cooed, stroking his hair. " _Il nostro bambino_ (4). Let me handle that." She wiped off Angelo's face with a tissue.

"Help, I can't breathe like this," Angelo muttered. "Mum, Dad, can I go to see Mirella?"

"Yeah, sure," Bonaventura said. "She's your sister." Angelo rushed over to Mirella, who was backstage with an assistant to supervise her. They were reading a book.

"Angelo!" Mirella squealed, rushing over to hug him. "You're finished!"

"Yeah, I guess I am!" Angelo replied. "Come on! I need to get you to Mamma and Papa so we can go home!"

"Yay! We can go home!" Mirella squealed. "This place is boring. I wish I could have seen what was going on."

"Maybe when you turn twenty, Mirella," Angelo sighed.

"Aww!"

Angelo just laughed.

* * *

When they got home, Angelo just collapsed onto the sofa. Pepsi, as always, rushed to see him. "You're a sight for sore eyes, aren't ya?" Angelo muttered. "I'm so sorry I had to go away for so long." Pepsi seemed to have forgiven him, licking his face and jumping into his lap for snuggles.

"You had a very eventful day, didn't you?" Bonaventura teased. "Live interview on TV! Your grandmother is going to love this! I think you're her favourite grandchild!"

"Mirella and I were always _Nonna's_ (5) favourites," Angelo said.

"Oh yeah."

* * *

Santo had been watching the interview with his navy work friends, filled with pride. "You see him? That's my brother sitting there! That's my brother!" Santo yelled.

"That's your brother? You're lucky. My brother's a loser," one of Santo's friends said.

"Same," another grunted. Santo smirked at all of them. Now they knew what they were missing.

* * *

Translations

1: Mum. Italian.

2: Dad. Italian.

3: My baby. Italian.

4: Our baby. Italian.

5: Grandma's. Italian.


	47. Media aftermath

_Sunday, August 4th_

* * *

Angelo woke up at 4 AM to the sound of notifications chiming on his phone. He checked his phone to see that it had blown up. Texts from his cousins, his aunt, his grandmother (she didn't quite know how to send texts, which was adorable) and Logan. He'd sent a text message. Loads of them, actually. He went through the most recent ones.

L: _Hey, precious!_

L: _You looked great on TV!_

L: _Text me when you read this, OK?_

L: _I just wanted to kiss you so much!_

L: _You looked so handsome!_

The genius smiled as he read the text messages. Logan was always so supportive of him. He sent a text back, and it continued from there.

A: _Hello, Logan!_

L: _I see my boyfriend is awake._

A: _Your text message woke me up._

L: _I SAW YOU ON TV! YOU LOOKED SO HOT! I TOLD MY BROTHER ABOUT YOU UNTIL HE PUNCHED ME!_

A: _I hope you're OK._

L: _I'll be fine once I get a hold of your body. I was horny just watching you._

L: _I need you in my house so I can have my hands all over you in my bedroom. I can take off all your clothes and give you hickeys and make you moan so loudly I need to put something in your mouth (maybe a lollipop) and use you like a toy. I can make you beg for me to do more stuff to you and hear you whine and whimper._

Angelo was apprehensive as he read the texts from his clearly aroused boyfriend, but he knew that Logan was just really horny, and he wouldn't hurt him because he loved him. Also, Logan had a very strong imagination.

A: _I guess I'll just have to fulfil your dream and go with you to your room._

L: _YES YES YES YES!_

L: _COME TO MY HOUSE AND GO TO MY ROOM AND TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES!_

L: _I NEED TO SEE YOU NAKED!_

A: _Of course you do, you horny little baby. You just want to lose your virginity to someone bigger and stronger than you. Honestly, do you have to be so dirty-minded?_

L: _Angelo, please. Just come over. I miss you. I need your touch._

A: _Aww, look who became all docile and needy. Want your boyfriend to snuggle with you in your bed, huh?_

L: _I want to snuggle with you in my bed. God, it sounds amazing just reading it on my phone. I just want to feel your body against me while I have your sweet ass like a toy._

A: _Well, you can't quite do that. I'm coming over when I'm good and ready. Just try to be good for me, sweetie. Can you do that?_

L: _I'm not sure._

A: _Then I guess we'll find out._

L: _WHAT DO YOU MEAN, 'WE'LL FIND OUT'?!_

L: _HOW LONG WILL IT TAKE FOR YOU TO GET THERE?_

L: _ANGELO RIVA, GET YOUR ASS OVER TO MY BEDROOM ASAP!_

L: _I AM NOT VERY PATIENT. YOU KNOW THIS FIRST HAND, YOU TEASE._

Angelo watched his phone blow up with texts, smirking as he reread them all. That should keep Logan busy for a while. Now he just needed to get changed.

"That should do it," Angelo grinned. "Poor little cutie pie." He chuckled as he got dressed, taking his sweet time with getting ready because he knew that Logan was getting anxious and desperate. He deliberately took his sweet time eating breakfast, knowing damn well that his boyfriend was losing his mind. He then took a while picking out clothing that would look good on him. He settled for a purple shirt (because fuck traditional masculinity) and black jeans. The genius wore his favourite oversized leather jacket (a hand-me-down from his brother) and decided to leave, only to be ambushed by his favourite fluff potato. Pepsi walked over, holding his leash and whining. He wanted his walk.

"Do you want your breakfast?" Angelo asked. "Or did you already have that?"

"Don't you dare feed that dog!" Roselle boomed. "He's already had his breakfast! And where are you going?"

"Out with Logan," Angelo replied.

"Call me when you get back," Roselle replied. That was it. Angelo went out and he made his way to Logan's house. He loved how gentle Logan was, his quiet supportiveness, how he could go on and on about the weirdest stuff and not be looked at as weird, how he could just relax and not feel like he had to constantly prove his intelligence because with him it didn't matter. It never did, and that was something he found to be just beautiful. He got to Logan's house, and he found the door being opened by an absolutely livid Logan Dobson.

"What took you so long?" Logan hissed. Angelo gave him a cocky smirk.

"Aww, that's so cute. Don't worry, Logan, I'll make it worth your while, just like you wanted," Angelo taunted. This didn't appease the redhead.

"Oh, you'll make it worth my while, all right," he hissed, a firm grasp of Angelo's ass. He dragged the nerdy boy over to his bedroom, which was furnished with a bed (of course) posters of anime that Angelo couldn't recognize, and a wardrobe that had mirrored doors.

"You. Clothes off. Now." Logan ordered. "I don't care how much thought you put into your outfit, all of it. Off."

"Yes," Angelo whimpered. He slowly shed the jacket, then the shirt. Logan watched hungrily as Angelo got undressed. He noted that Angelo's body was more lean than before, most likely from months of inactivity. His stomach was still flat, but without the abs that Logan remembered drooling over, and his arms were thinner. But he was still the boyfriend that Logan loved, and the boy that he would have to teach a long, hard lesson.

"Come here, brat," Logan ordered. "On your knees in front of the bed. Don't move and don't talk. I just need to get you something." With that, the brat was left alone with his thoughts. He regretted teasing Logan, and he wanted to squirm and he just relaxed. He loved Logan, and he knew Logan loved him. He wouldn't hurt him.

"Angelo . . . look what I have for you," Logan cooed, holding something behind his back. Angelo looked at his boyfriend, who smirked and produced a giant lollipop, that was round and much larger than the one he got before.

"What are you going to do with that?" Angelo muttered.

"Open your mouth and you'll find out," Logan grinned. He whimpered and started looking away. "Oh, no no no no no. No, you don't. You look at me and you open your mouth for your lollipop." Angelo whined and blushed as he opened his mouth, letting the lollipop be slowly placed into his mouth. He sucked on his new sweet treat, his mouth struggling to take the size of it. Logan just loved taunting him with things like this.

"Mphbl," Angelo babbled. "Gblmph."

"Just keep sucking and remember to breathe through your nose, baby boy. You don't have much of a choice," Logan taunted. "You're not using your mouth to do anything else until this is all dissolved. So I guess you've got a goal to work towards, don't you?" Logan liked how powerful he felt, him standing while Angelo was on his knees. "Pity it will take you hours, though." Angelo whimpered, but kept sucking. He wanted to be touched and teased and taunted so badly, so he kept doing it. "Good little boy. Now, another thing you have to get used to is being treated a little rough." He took his left hand and started grabbing a fistful of hair and forced the treat down the prodigy's throat, laughing when Angelo gagged and tears welled up in his eyes from the force. "Good boy, brat. Suck on it and keep the noise down. Maybe if this happens long enough, you won't be able to talk and you won't be such a brat. Because this is what happens to bratty babies that are too hot for their own good." He grinned at Angelo's tear-streaked face and wiped one away. "Aww, so cute. Shame you had to be a brat, though."

Angelo let out a whine.

"This could be the only stimulation you're getting from me today, and that's for being so late," Logan told him. "But I promise you, Angelo, this will be very pleasurable . . . for me." Angelo felt his head bob up and down as the lollipop went in and out, in and out, in and out. He heard Logan coo at him when it went especially deep. "Wanna say something, babe?" Angelo nodded, and Logan removed the lollipop.

"Could I have breaks like this more often? And how did you get your hands on a lollipop this big?" Angelo asked.

"Novelty store. There were also ones that looked like long, hard penises, but I wasn't allowed to buy those," Logan admitted. Angelo whimpered. "Now, this needs to go back in your mouth."

"Fine," Angelo muttered, feeling his mouth be stuffed full of the lollipop his boyfriend picked out for him. The redheaded cartoonist looked at the boy he had in his room, in just his underwear, on his knees, with a lollipop in his mouth.

"How can you be so undignified and so cute?" Logan wondered aloud. It was a rhetorical question, but Angelo wouldn't have been able to answer it anyway. "If I'd known this would make such a pretty picture, I would have taken you up to my room a long time ago. Now, are you breathing OK like this?" Angelo nodded. "How about now?" The rhythmic thrusting and sucking of the lollipop restarted, and this time, it was harder than before. He gagged.

"Lmgmn!" Angelo couldn't talk properly, but his boyfriend could tell that he was trying to say his name. He stopped forcing the lollipop inside the tech prodigy's mouth, and brought him onto his feet.

"That's it, babe, on your feet," Logan muttered, stroking the hair he'd just been pulling on. "Did I go too rough on you?" Angelo took out the lollipop to answer.

"I'm fine." Logan let out a sigh of relief as he started taking off his clothes so he, too, was in about as many clothes as his boyfriend. "Now, honey, come here. And the lollipop stays in your mouth." Angelo blushed as he snuggled closer to his boyfriend, who started with hickeys on his neck and chest. They felt good . . . really good. Angelo sucked on the lollipop harder to stave off moaning. He didn't notice he was doing it, but his legs opened up while Logan was giving him hickeys. Logan looked at him and smirked.

"That's it. Even if you're not sure, your body knows exactly what to do," Logan cooed. Angelo looked at him, red-faced but still aroused. "You really are excited to see me, aren't you?"

"Mpblm! Nnnn . . . mmmmmm."

"Who's a good pet?" Logan taunted. "I'm going to make you go crazy and beg for more touches like this, you understand?" Angelo nodded. Logan dove under the covers to leave hickeys on Angelo's thighs and grope at his ass. "Well, I wish you were used to having hickeys all over you, so I wouldn't need to gag you. Now, you keep being the perfect little plaything. I wanna hold what's mine."

* * *

It continued to be like that for what seemed like forever, Logan personally making sure that he was suitably whimpering through it all. "Logan, enough," Angelo groaned. The lollipop had dissolved in his mouth, letting him spit out the stick and finally talk. "No more."

"Of course, honey," Logan cooed. "There's just one more thing that needs doing. Stand up and look at that mirror, baby." Angelo stood up on uneasy legs, facing the mirror. Looking at the mirror, he felt like he had to cover himself up now he could see exactly how many hickeys Logan had given his body. "No, no, no. Don't you dare cover yourself up. I want to see too. And turn around, too." Angelo turned around slowly, making the redheaded cartoonist wolf whistle. "Hellooooo, hot stuff!"

"H-hot stuff?" Angelo whimpered. Logan nodded and grinned.

"Of course you are. I want to take you out of your home for the express purpose of playing with you." He gave Angelo a few more hickeys because . . . why not? He was just so cute, especially when he was his toy.

"Logan, I have to go! I've been here for hours!" Angelo whined. Logan sighed, grabbing Angelo's ass one more time just to make him squeal.

"Bye, little brat," Logan smiled, grinning madly as his boyfriend put on his clothes back on. He didn't even bother not to look. Angelo was changed, but there was still a small matter of having hickeys all over his neck. The Italian boy sighed as he checked his neck over one more time.

"Bye, Logan," Angelo sighed, leaving to go back home, nowhere near as put together as before.

 _How is he so cute?_ Logan wondered.

* * *

Angelo walked over to his house, feeling like he had been drained of energy. His mother was shocked, but willing to tease her son. "Well, it's easy to see what Logan wanted with you," she muttered, taking him inside. "Honestly, it's like he thinks you're a toy!" Angelo blushed at his mother's words. "He doesn't hurt you, does he?"

"No," Angelo told his mother. She checked his neck just a little longer (causing Angelo no end of embarrassment, which Logan would have loved) and then left.

"Wait until your father hears about this," she chuckled. Angelo blushed as he went up to his room. He decided to look at the news.

"And Angelo's watch is taking the world by storm," a news correspondent announced. "The watch that was first showed to the world on Day Break TV with Merle Moore. It's being called the next step in technology development."

"I looked at Angelo with his watch and went, 'I think I want my own MAIA," a woman commented.

"You know what? What if people could have their own MAIA?" Angelo muttered. "I'll have to start that sometime."


	48. Coronavirus chapter

Time skip: from Sunday, August 4th, 2019 to Friday, April 10th, 2020

* * *

A lot of time had passed since Angelo first went on TV. In that time, a global pandemic had ravaged the world, infecting thousands and forcing everyone to stay inside and quarantine for their own safety. Being locked up was never good for Angelo, whose mind was prone to wandering . . . so he invented his way to sanity. A modified version of MAIA was placed inside of normal-looking watches, necklaces and bracelets. After months of correspondence with psychology and mental health experts to ensure that the coping mechanisms programmed into these devices were correct, they were sent to sufferers of anxiety, ADHD and PTSD to test. And to make it more personal to the user, they were allowed to choose the name, accent and gender of their personal MAIA, as well as tell their MAIA exactly what they had trouble coping with most. He was proud to say that it was an absolute success.

"Angelo, aren't you worried that this is the wrong time for an invention like that?" he was asked. "We're living in the middle of a pandemic; people are more worried about their physical health."

"No. In fact, this is the perfect time for that. Mental health is just as important as physical health, as any mental health professional will tell you," Angelo replied. "And during a stressful time like this, people's mental health will undoubtedly decline. Besides, now I'm stuck inside with my family, I need some way to escape them that isn't literal. So I threw myself into making a personal MAIA for anyone who suffers from things as serious as panic attacks and traumatic flashbacks and as mild yet annoying as forgetting what you need to get at the shops."

"What exactly did motivate this invention?"

"I had more free time than I knew what to do with, and I remembered someone saying that they wished that they had their own MAIA. So I decided to make sure people could have their own MAIA."

"How will you react to problems with these personal MAIAs?"

"The way anyone should; apologize for the problem and fix it."

"Thank you, Angelo Riva. No further questions," he was told. He let out a sigh and turned off his laptop's webcam. Pepsi knew that he could talk to his human now, and gave him his tug toy so they could pull on it. Mirella giggled at them goofing around.

"Even when you're smart, you're still silly," she sighed.

"All work and no play makes Angelo a dull boy," Angelo explained. "I'm taking Pepsi for a walk."

"You already took him. I need some fresh air, so I'm taking him," Bonaventura insisted. "Come on, Pepsi. Wanna go for a walkie?" Pepsi jumped up and barked happily, and the father got his leash and left. Once he was gone, Roselle slipped Angelo a £10 note.

"You win this round, honey," she muttered. "Should've known that he'd use any excuse to leave by now."

"Thank you," Angelo grinned, pocketing the money. "I might as well get something out of this lockdown."

"Other than all the money you're collecting from the personal MAIAs, right?"

"Fine."

"Angelo, can you help me?" Mirella called. "I want to do nails with you."

"Coming!" Angelo called, rushing over to his sister's room. Roselle smiled. Those were certainly her kids.

* * *

After his nails had dried, the genius had to call his boyfriend. Due to lockdown, he couldn't meet up with him like they used to, but they talked plenty.

"Angelo!" Logan squeaked, as Angelo looked at him and smiled like a loon. "Oh, I wanna screw you so badly, but I can't! You're just so far away!"

"You've become even hornier over lockdown, haven't you?" Angelo sighed.

"It doesn't help that you're so gorgeous, now does it?" Logan teased.

"It doesn't help that you're a pervert at heart, either."

"Oh, when this lockdown is over and I can finally get my hands on you, I am going to make you wish that you hadn't been such a little shit."

"But since you can't touch me, there's nothing you can do. Bye, Logan." Angelo had a smirk as he hung up on the furious Logan.

 _Oh, he's going to beg for mercy once I get my hands on him,_ Logan thought.

 _He's going to make me beg for mercy once he gets his hands on me,_ Angelo thought.


	49. Six years later

_Time skip: from Friday, April 10th, 2020 to Wednesday, August 5th, 2026_

* * *

Angelo let out a sigh as he snuggled closer into his warm bed. Logan was next to him, still sleeping. Everything seemed to be going OK. "Hello, Logan," he yawned. Logan smiled at him. He'd filled out since then, not quite as skinny as before, but still adorably tiny.

"Hey," Logan sighed. "You have to go to work or are you staying in?"

"I'm staying in." Logan cooed with happiness, wrapping his arms around the genius.

"Good." He let out a sigh, surveying the king-size bed he was lying in, the spacious room he had fallen asleep in, which was in the sophisticated house they owned. He'd gone from a life in a scrappy working class neighbourhood to living in a luxury apartment with his boyfriend. "Honestly, I look around this place and see you in the same bed as me . . . I can't believe this."

"Can't believe what, leprechaun?"

"Just . . . all of this. This life we're leading now. We have our dream jobs, a nice house to live in, somehow still together. Finally, we're all grown up," Logan sighed. "Willowdale Secondary School seems like such a long time ago."

"I know," Angelo sighed. "Just when I thought I was done with school, I'm told by police that I need to enrol in another one."

"And let me guess: everything about it was shit?"

"Not everything." He looked at Logan's eyes: the only thing about him that didn't look like it had aged. The face had become more mature, with more defined features. His hair had been grown and tied back into a man-bun. He was beginning to grow a beard now, something Angelo was a fan of. The prodigy personally preferred to be clean shaven.

"Thank you, honey. I love you."

"I love you, too." They snuggled closer together, and settled down to go back to sleep in each other's arms. After all, they weren't exactly going anywhere.


End file.
